Close Encounters - Book 2: Shard
by OrionXIII
Summary: This story deals with the life of Sharden, a Dosadi male who has been an outcast his entire life, but who believes he has found a home in Starfleet. However, he also must struggle with the Prime Directive when the choice is to obey the code and allow over a billion sentient beings to die, or to commit a heinous crime in the Federation's eyes. Minor cameo by CPO Miles O'Brien
1. Forward

_FOREWORD_

All three books present in this novel deal with the theme of the Federation's Prime Directive. For those of you not terribly familiar with the Star Trek universe (all rights owned by Paramount) or its Prime Directive, allow me to provide a brief background.

"The **United Federation of Planets** (abbreviated as **UFP** and commonly referred to as the **Federation**) was an interstellar federal republic, composed of planetary governments that agreed to exist semi-autonomously under a single central government based on the principles of universal liberty, rights, and equality, and to share their knowledge and resources in peaceful cooperation and space exploration. One of the most powerful interstellar states in known space, it encompassed 8,000 light years and at least a thousand planets. The total number of formal members worlds was over one hundred and fifty.

Unlike its imperial rivals, who derived power from a single species subjugating other races, the Federation's various member worlds joined willingly and were equals in the Federation's democratic society. The Federation Starfleet was incorporated to maintain exploratory, scientific, diplomatic, and defense functions." (Source: /wiki/United_Federation_of_Planets)

One of their foundational ethical principles was a directive of non-interference known as The Prime Directive. "The Prime Directive had 47 sub-orders by the latter part of the 24th century. However, a high-level summary was "no identification of self or mission; no interference with the social development of said planet; no references to space, other worlds, or advanced civilizations." The directive provided guidance on what constituted prohibited "interference" with a society, covering such matters as:

Providing knowledge of other inhabited worlds (even if individuals or governments in the society were already aware of such)

Providing knowledge of technologies or science

Taking actions to generally affect a society's overall development

Taking actions which support one faction within a society over another

Helping a society escape the negative consequences of its own actions

Helping a society escape a natural disaster known to the society, even if inaction would result in a society's extinction.

Subverting or avoiding the application of a society's laws

Interfering in the internal affairs of a society "

(Source: /wiki/Prime_Directive)

_For clarity, units and numbers are converted to more human-friendly terms. Dosadi use base-8 numbering and most space-faring nations base distance calculations on the wavelength of the hydrogen absorption line – a universal constant – rather than Earth-centric light-years or parsecs._

This novel is a sequel to _The Dosadi Suite, _but can be read as a stand-alone as well.

_Book 1: Rileeta_

This story follows the career of Corin's adopted daughter Rileeta (See _The Dosadi Suite: Cycle 5 – Finale_) as she is brought into conflict with the Federation's Prime Directive and Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the _USS Enterprise._

_Book 2: Shard_

This story deals with the life of Sharden, a Dosadi male who has been an outcast his entire life, but who believes he has found a home in Starfleet. However, he also must struggle with the Prime Directive when the choice is to obey the code and allow over a billion sentient beings to die, or to commit a heinous crime in the Federation's eyes.

_Book 3: Chance_

The Dosadi captain of a small Federation science scout discovers a barbaric and oppressive society and decides to fan the flames of rebellion in direct violation of the Prime Directive.


	2. Chapter 1

STAR TREK: CLOSE ENCOUNTERS

_BOOK 2: SHARD_

_**CHAPTER 1**_

"_The best way to predict the future is to invent it."_

_- Alan Kay_

_**CITY OF HIRI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**FEBRUARY 2348**_

The airship was beautiful, the coated fabric of her hull shimmering in the afternoon light. The vulpine Sava Irani watched the hundred meter long craft maneuvering towards the heavy line strung between the twin landing masts and marveled at this latest innovation. The nearly silent purr of her engines, the swishing sound of her four propellers and the sheer size of the craft were a statement to man's mastery of science.

He straightened his long, military-style jacket and fluffed his bushy tail against the chill in the air this afternoon. There was the usual bustle of people on the city's streets; food carts, wagons being pulled by thrail, women hurrying to finish the day's shopping before their husbands returned home from work, even the occasional courier. The city had grown almost exponentially these past two decades and there were days he almost didn't recognize it.

While the airship hooked on to the mooring line and the landing tower was rolled up to the gondola, he looked at the city surrounding him. Of course most of the dwellings were underground, but there were factories, storage buildings, and other assorted structures spread far and wide. If he stood to his full meter and a third, he could just see the hulls of the ships in port, their masts sticking up like a winter forest on the horizon.

Taking the intricately designed pocket-watch from his waist-coat, he checked the time and smiled. The man he was waiting for was nearly as precise as the watch – even when riding such a technological innovation as the airship. And yes, there he was, winding his way down the stairs in the landing tower. He was short – which for a species that averaged little more than a meter tall was saying something – dressed in a cacophony of styles, and covered in instruments and gadgetry. Judging by his excitement, had the airship lost buoyancy, they could simply have used him to float with instead.

"Sava!" he called out, waving, as he hurried over. "Is that not the most amazing thing you have ever seen?!"

The two men grasped hands, their upright black ears a sharp contrast to the very short, fine, red fur covering them. "No, it wasn't, Tharex. That would be the first time I saw you actually _in_ the air. This is just a predictable progression like a well-structured chemical reaction."

Tharex Slayt laughed, "Oh come now, not _all_ my ideas work out quite so well. And there is still significant risk from the hydrogen, of course." He rubbed his chin, "These motors still concern me. If there's insufficient solar heat for the hot cylinder, we still need to use the firebox, and no matter how enclosed it is, the potential for ignition is high."

"And I have no doubt you'll invent a solution to that as well." They walked towards where Sava had their thrail tethered. "You should join us for dinner to celebrate your triumph – regular travel by air!"

"I'd like that. I can tell you about my latest story!"

Sava laughed, "Seriously. You need to pick just _one_ think to excel at, Tharex. It's simply not fair to excel at so many things simultaneously."

They mounted the lizard-like thrail and began to ride towards Sava Irani's home. "You exaggerate. And your own accomplishments in astronomy and biology are nothing to sneer at."

"I'm afraid neither of those fields generates spectaculars like an airship. Or an engine capable of irrigating fields, or any of a dozen others. If you were only slightly less irritating you'd long since have had a wife...and likely a dozen mistresses."

"I don't have time for such nonsense. There are too many things to learn, too many puzzles to solve!"

Mrs Irani laid another plate of roast on the table and turned to her guest. "Is there no end to your inventions?"

Tharex smiled back at her. She was truly a beauty. Delicate hands and feet with sharp black markings in the short, fine, fur and a wonderful smile. He had often felt that his friend was far luckier than himself for having found such a woman. "I wonder every day when I'll run out of ideas. But there is so _much_ yet to learn that I cannot help but think there will always be more to invent. More things to create. But it will take people like Sava here to find that core knowledge. Speaking of which, how _are_ your latest observations?"

"Well, as you know I just finished assembling my latest telescope. The larger mirror is producing some truly astonishing data. I can, with complete confidence, now confirm Hasket's theory that there are _many_ other suns in space."

"You are certain?"

"Yes. Absolutely. I will show you the plates after dessert, in fact. You can see the points of light through the veil of fire."

"Points of light? They could be anything!"

"No, my friend. I was inspired by Willet's work with prisms. I have taken the light from my telescope and fed it through a prism after isolating the individual points of light. I have made plates of what has resulted! You will see that these other suns produce a prismatic effect much like our own. Truly astonishing!"

"Other suns." He thought for a moment. "Imagine if there were other peoples around those other suns."

Mrs Irani laughed, "Oh dear. He's getting another idea!"

The shorter man smiled, "And as always, it is you two who inspire me." He lifted another slice of meat to his mouth, with it's needle sharp front teeth. "Imagine, if you will, what these...these...space people would be like."

She thought for a moment, "Well, I think they would look much like ourselves."

Her husband snorted. "You see, Tharex, how unsuited women are for the pursuit of logical fields like science."

"Well why shouldn't they look like us?" she asked.

"My lovely wife, why _should_ they? With all the varieties of life we have here on our world – all of them so very different from us – you can believe that ours is the only form that would provide a home to intelligence? Why, even within the varied nations of the world, there are significant variations! To believe that some strange being from beyond the veil of fire would look anything like us at all is folly. _Egotistical_ folly at that."

Thalex spoke up, "I'm afraid, Milay, that I must agree with Sava. He is quite correct. Why, we have learned now that all of the varied types of life here have descended from more primitive common ancestors, each responding to the pressures of their particular environment. There is even an expedition planned to delve into the mysteries of the Great Southern Continent – think of what amazing things we shall find..."

She interrupted "We? Oh, no, you are _not_ taking my husband on yet another insane adventure!"

The astronomer hastened to calm his wife, "Now, settle down. There is no way I could _not_ go on this expedition! I am a member of the Continental Society and a leader in biological research. And think of the different skies to be seen as well!"

"But I worry so much when you are away! And having to handle the children and the house and the bills when you're not here to help. It's overwhelming."

He reached and took hold of his wife's hand. "Milay, one of the reasons I married you is because you have the strength of will and mind to handle such things."

She sniffed. "How long?"

"Less than a year. We'd be back before you even knew we were gone."

"I always know when you're gone." She turned to her guest, "I do _not _know why I tolerate you in my house, Thalex."

"Because we always have such interesting discussions!" He smiled, hoping to change the topic away from the upcoming expedition. "Such as what life from another world might be like!"

"But if, as you say, it could be anything...what if it's something horrid? Like a big hairy berdo!" she shivered and wrapped her delicate little arms around herself.

"It's possible! But I would think there would be similarities..." Thalex held up his hands, "They would surely need the ability to manipulate their environment, so I should think they would at least have hands."

Sava thought for a moment, "But outside of their appearance, which is as like to be hideous to our eyes as it is pleasing, what of their character? Were they able to traverse the unimaginable distances of space, what would their intent be? Conquest?"

"Hmmm." He rubbed the fine fur on his chin. "I'm of two minds on this. One would think that a species advanced enough in science to conquer space would have grown beyond such things. But – and Sava, think of your biology here – We see that all living things are constantly in competition. I can see the resources of their world being depleted during their ascension and their need driving them to seek new resources across the depths of space.

"Imagine how they would see us! Even our most astonishing advancements would pale before theirs. Would they attempt to treat with us, or simply smash us aside and take what they want?"

Milay said, "I don't know how you can think we would be so weak! Think of an entire army arrayed against them; How could they simply swat us as you describe?"

Sava shook his head. "You lack imagination. You understand how artillery works? The shell flying along its arc through the sky, and then falling on the foe and exploding? Imagine now, if you will, a rock. Say twice the size of our largest cannon. Now imagine this rock falling from space...The velocity increasing like a meteor, the entire thing aflame until it impacts, destroying everything near it! They wouldn't even need to manufacture such a thing – merely collect them from the many asteroids available in space and drop them where they will."

She held her hand to her mouth. "Would there be nothing we could do?"

Tharex smiled, "You're going to have to read my next story to see!" and he laughed. "This is, of course, all fantasy. The sort of thing to while away the evening hours while the lamps burn low." He picked up his glass of ale, the golden-red liquid catching the light from the lamps' flames. Our reality is here. He looked around his friends' home, the grey-stone lining the dug-out walls and dark wood smoothing the floor, the overhead windows showing the flickering light of the Veil of Fire, and the lamps venting silently into the night above. "You are no more likely to meet men from space than you are to suddenly sprout wings and fly around my airship!"

Sava grinned and said, "Or you are to find a woman and settle down."

"I'll drink to that." the inventor agreed and drained his glass.

Later, the two of them were sitting in Tharex's study smoking pipes of a grassy material called 'anashi'. A mild depressive, it was a common evening enjoyment for Drenians. Tharex held up another of the image-plates that his friend had laid out for him. "This is simply astonishing!"

"I have been most careful – you see the indexing. And you can see that the veil of fire produces one prismatic display, while each of these points produces another, all very similar! And look! Compare to _our_ sun – they are identical! These _are_ suns."

"I wonder if it should ever be possible to travel there. To somehow fly through the fire and _see_ these other suns and any worlds they may have."

"I am certain if it is, that you shall be the man to invent the method." Tharex laughed.

Sava looked thoughtful, "Now _that_ would certainly be an accomplishment..."

"But, I have more to show you than images of space."

"And what is the next marvel?"

"From the world without to the world within...Here, let me prepare the glass." He adjusted a complex microscope for a few moments, adjusting a mirror so that the light from a nearby oil lamp shone on through the platform. Selecting a small flat piece of glass with something smeared on it he slid it underneath a pair of spring clips and then peered through the lens.

"And you claim I am a master inventor. The lenses and mirrors you are capable of producing confound expert glass makers across the civilized world."

Mumbling he said, "Bah. Merely a matter of patience and precision. Nothing to it...There!" He stepped away from the instrument. "Look there."

Tharex took the other man's place a the microscope. "Why...What...I see the cells of the blood, what are these other objects in blue?"

"I have found a chemical that they absorb that turns them that color. But here, let me test your powers of deduction, Tharex. Look at this one." He slid another piece of glass under the clips.

"I see only the blood."

"And this?" he swapped again.

"Two types again. But I can deduce nothing from this – You have not given me enough information!"

"What if I told you that each of these was a blood sample?"

Tharex snorted. "Clearly."

"And that two of them came from a person who was sick with the bloody cough?"

Tharex's ears flicked backwards and his mouth hung open. "And the third?"

"From a healthy person."

"What are you saying? That these different cells are the cause of the disease?"

"Exactly that. I can find no difference in the balance of bodily fluids between the sick and the healthy that cannot be accounted for by differences in mass, but this is a difference I can see. The theory was proposed by Hilcox – he has asked me to review his findings and I must concur."

The shorter man puffed on his pipe for a few moments, lost in thought. "But where do these strange cells come from?"

Sava smiled, "That is the _next_ mystery to solve!"


	3. Chapter 2

_**CHAPTER 2**_

"_What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love."  
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov _

_**CITY OF C'ORLEAN, DOSAD**_

_**FEBRUARY 2349**_

__Dutsal drew deeply on the pipe, letting the baxalo smoke fill her lungs. Normally, baxalo was burned as an incense in a small, fully enclosed shelter as part of the Dijathi D'oran ritual, but some Dosadi did become addicted, and would smoke it much like tobacco. The smoke was both psychedelic and toxic. Holding the smoke in, she handed the pipe to her mate, Velar who did the same.

Their son, five year-old Sharden, was curled up in a small sleeping pad, trying hard to remain unnoticed and trying not to cough from the smoke. Sometimes if he was _really_ good and stayed quiet he would get enough to eat for dinner. Assuming they had dinner tonight, of course. Sometimes they forgot. He tried to sleep, but the smoke made it hard, as did the growling in his belly.

Finally, an hour later, the two adults were so out of touch with reality, he decided that he would go and play with his friend. Sometimes he had something to eat and would share it. He very slowly uncurled and rose up onto all fours and silently crept out of their roundhouse. It was never very clean – he had stopped asking anyone to come over because they made fun of it.

Not that many other kits would come over anyway. His parents weren't very well tolerated in town. Like himself, they didn't fit in. They were accused of being hoarders, or thieves, or dishonorable and did little to dissuade anyone. It bothered him. The few times he had been to another kit's home, they were clean and weren't cluttered with all the _things_ that his parents always had. A lot of the other kits said that those things were everybody's and that it was wrong to keep them. Sharden didn't really understand _why_ they kept them – they didn't use all of them hardly at all.

And it hurt his feelings when the other kits' parents would watch him with suspicion. Almost worse were the ones who treated him with pity.

He made his way outside and gratefully inhaled the clean, clear air of a Dosad evening. The moon, Thorin, was low on the horizon and bright, even with the sun not yet set. There were some torn-puff-ball clouds turning pink and purple with the fading light and the whirks were starting to chirp in the tall grass. He smiled and hurried towards town to try to find his friend Fianos. Maybe they could go and hunt. His parents hadn't really shown him a lot yet, but sometimes Fianos would show him what _his _parents had taught him.

Most recently Fianos had shown him how to stalk from downwind so that the prey wouldn't catch your scent. If you were careful and quiet, you could even catch a thevet. They were small, but very delicious. Maybe they could find a couple tonight. Or maybe even a pashtol – they were something like a rabbit with a triceratops-like fringe around the back of their heads. He hurried towards town, practicing walking quietly.

No more than fifteen minutes later, he was on the outskirts of a cluster of roundhouses where there were a number of kits his age, including his friend. Most of the kits his age just picked on him. He was a lot smaller than they were and almost all of them could beat him in a match. Mostly they just made fun of him or said he was dirty, or smelled bad or... The wind was in his face and his stomach growled again. But the wind brought the sounds of young voices to his sharp ears and he decided he would show Fianos how well he could stalk – he'd sneak up on him and pounce! Maybe if he were better at hunting more kits would like him.

Carefully he crept closer, guiding on the voices of the other kits.

"Anyone want to try and hunt?" Sharden perked his ears up. That was Fianos' voice. He was just in time! With several of them they were sure to get a thevet – probably more than one! Maybe one for everyone.

"We should get going before your friend shows up." That was Thur. He was bigger than other kits his age and mean-spirited.

"Shaard's _not_ my friend" Fianos protested. Sharden recoiled like he was struck. Shaard is the Dosadi word for thief. He stopped dead in his tracks and hid further under the bool bush he was in.

"He is too. You're always hanging around him, you've even been to his house. You're probably th'mew!"

"I am not and we are not! I just feel sorry for him is all. He's a pathetic little kit is all."

A female voice – Kelara's - "Ooo, you feel _sorry_ for Shaard! Do you help him steal too?"

"No! I hardly even talk to him. He's just annoying and I feel sorry for him. I mean, look at his parents! Somebody's got to take care of him."

Sharden didn't want to hear any more. His eyes were filled with tears. The one person in the world that he considered a friend...Had been...lying. As silently as he could, he crawled backwards on his hands and feet, then turned and moved quickly away. When he had sufficient distance, he started to run. He was still running long after the sun had set. He ran until he was too exhausted to cry any more.

He sat on a rock outcropping, overlooking a cliff above a river. The sun had set and the moon was casting a wan light over the blue-grey shades of the forest and river below him. His mind was full of dark thoughts and his fur was wet with tears. He'd find some way to show them. He wasn't pathetic. And he wasn't a thief. He didn't need them. Maybe he'd run away. Find someplace else where no one knew him or his parents. Then they'd all be sorry they were so mean to him. Or maybe he could challenge them!

His shoulders sagged. He'd just get beat up again. He wasn't very strong, or very fast, and he didn't know how to fight very well. Sometimes an adult at the green would show him some moves, but he was never very good at duplicating them. It was so hard to concentrate on what they were showing him when he was hungry, or even worse after he'd just gotten beaten up again. It always hurt and it was embarrassing and he knew they were just showing him because they felt sorry for him.

Sniffing, he watched a felar soar below him and then catch a rising breeze that brought it up and over the cliff he was on, its high-pitched hunting song screeing past him. He wished he could fly. Fly away and find someplace where people were nice. Hist stomach growled again. Felars were great hunters. If he could get up high like they did, he could see things before they saw him. If he had a spear, he could even get a k'lox then. Sure they were bigger than him, but they weren't a _lot_ bigger than him. And he'd share it with everyone. That would show them. They'd see he could hunt and that he wasn't a thief.

With a plan in mind, he started back towards his parents' roundhouse with a much less heavy heart. He spent the entire walk home refining how he would hunt the k'lox – something like a goat-sized squirrel with very sharp teeth and long-clawed feet – and where best to find them. But mostly, he planned out what he would say to the other kits when he brought it home. He'd show them. They would see. They would.

It was several hours later when he finally found his way home. Dosadi have excellent night-vision, but for a small kit, vulnerable to pteranodon-like theks, or a dozen other major predators and very much afraid of demons like sekars or therets, it was a long and often-frightening journey. It was a very weary, very hungry little boy who finally crept through the door and into his home.

Sneaking quietly towards the kitchen, he wondered how out of it his parents were. Slowly placing one small foot in front of the other, he edged past his mother, who woke up and snatched him by the scruff of his neck. Sharden, as all Dosadi kits did when scruffed, went limp and she batted his ears several times, yelling at him, "Where were you?! Gone gods only know where and doing who knows what! Didn't even tell us! Inconsiderate little teeg!" Fortunately, the effects of the drug took hold again and she simply dropped him on the floor and went back to whatever visions were cascading through her brain.

His father simply stared at him, bleary-eyed, and giggled.

Sharden didn't wait to see what would happen next; he made tracks for the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat. Moving as silently as he could he searched all the places where his parents sometimes hid food, finally managing to find some meat and even some cheese that had been left out. He greedily ate all of it; If he was lucky, his parents would think they ate it while they were smoking. But no matter what, at least his stomach wasn't growling any more. And tomorrow, he would head up into the big hills nearby and make a spear. And then he would hunt a k'lox and he'd bring it back and they'd all see that he was a better hunter than they were. And they'd all want to know how he did it.

The next morning, he quickly snuck out before his parents woke up and gave him chores to do. He might even stay out all night – it was a long trip to get up where the k'lox were most common. But he could do that. He'd go up in the hills, he'd make a spear, and he'd get up a miritha tree and the first k'lox he saw, he'd drop on it and kill it! Then he'd bring it back and let everyone have some. If he got back late in the day, his parents might just think they had lost track of time. They did that a lot.

Indeed, it was late afternoon by the time he had made it up into the hills a solid ten miles from town. It was the furthest Sharden had _ever_ gone by himself and he was very nearly exhausted. But he knew from listening to the adults in town talk that this was one of the best places to find his prey. There were plenty of big trees with open meadows and scrub brush. The k'lox were omnivorous scavengers, and they liked to have cover when they looked for food and they loved to sun themselves.

Sharden looked up at the pale blue sky, panting. He had found a stick for his spear on the way up – he had been using it as a walking stick. Now he had to find some way to make a point for it. He knew they were supposed to have these cool spearheads on them. There had to be a rock here somewhere. He found a couple that might work and sat down to try to make a stone point. He knew you hit the one rock with the other one and he tried several different ways before giving it up. All he had managed to do was smash his fingers several times and break one of the rocks in two.

He sighed unhappily and began using the broken rock edge to sharpen the spear-shaft instead.

The problem with hunting – particularly hunting with primitive weapons – and especially when you are small, is that you are not the only one hunting. While Sharden was doggedly trying to turn his stick into a spear, he had come to the attention of another predator.

Lox are the size of a large black bear. They look like a long-legged wolverine and have a temper to match. This one was slowly working his way closer to Sharden, coming out of the brush at the edge of the meadow behind the kit's back. Sharden paused in his sharpening and held the spear up to examine the point. His ears flicked backwards at the sound of breathing behind him and he spun around, his sharpened stick at the ready.

The lox charged at him with a snuffling growl. Terrified, Sharden stabbed with his spear, hitting the lox low on the chest. It did little real damage, but it hurt the animal. It roared and swatted the stick out of Sharden's hands, sending it sailing across the meadow. The boy scrambled backwards, trying to keep away from the lox, but it reached out and hooked its claws into his right leg and dragged him backwards, ripping deeply into the muscles.

Sharden screamed, a high-pitched, awful sound full of pain and fear. He beat at the creature's snout with his hands, his claws raking across its nose, scratching it. Angry now, it bit his arm, then pulled him closer with the claws hooked in the boy's leg. Desperate, Sharden grabbed at its mouth and nose, trying to keep from being eaten and he heard a loud, deep roar and a curse.

The lox shuddered and screeched in pain, releasing Sharden and turning very quickly for something that size. Disbelieving, the kit saw an adult Dosadi, holding a spear deep in the lox's side and swearing at it. Too stunned, frightened, and injured to even try to run, he lay on the ground crying while the man withdrew the spear and stabbed again.

The animal stood up on its hind legs and smashed the man's spear in two, leaving it embedded in its side. In an instant, it had jumped onto the man and they were wrestling and rolling in a hissing, screaming fight. Recovering his senses somewhat, Sharden picked up the broken chunk of rock he had been using to sharpen his stick and crawled to where the lox had the adult pinned on the ground. It was spurting blood from its neck, but had its teeth sunk deeply into the man's shoulder and it's hind claws were ripping at his belly. Sharden began clubbing the thing on the back of the head, trying to do _something_ while the man continued to rip at the big predator's throat with his own claws.

Finally, he heard a deep voice tell him, in gasping phrases, "Its dead. You can stop now."

He slowly stopped hitting it. There was blood everywhere and the last few times he had struck, it had felt very spongy. He began trying to push the several hundred pounds of dead weight off of his rescuer.

"Wh..what are you doing up here, kit?" he asked Sharden as he tried to drag himself out from under the animal.

Crying, his words stumbling over themselves and shaking with pain and fright he tried to explain, "I wanted...I just wanted to hunt. I was going to hunt a k'lox and it snuck up on me and oh gods oh no you're hurt really bad my leg's all ripped up it hurts so bad."

The adult was trying to hold his torn abdomen together, but it was obvious he was badly wounded. "Hey, calm down. We'll get through this, OK? I'm At'Vax." He put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "What's your name, kit?"

Still crying, but trying to settle down some he answered, "Sharden. You're bleeding everywhere. What do I do?!"

At'Vax tried to sit up and groaned. "Yeah. Not good." He looked around the meadow, "Look, Sharden, you see those big brown puff-balls over there? You have to go get as many of those as you can carry and come back with them, OK?"

"I'll try." Sharden got onto his hands and feet, holding his torn leg up and crawled painfully over to the edge of the green. With the bite on his arm he couldn't really put weight on it either. He managed to stuff quite a few of the big poofy fungi down his shirt and went back to his rescuer. "Here. I got some!"

"Right. Okay, you need to smash some into that big gash on your leg. And give me some too – then go back for more. They'll help clot up the cuts."

After another two trips, the two had managed to shove enough puff-balls into their various wounds that they were only seeping blood. Sharden was still crying, still hurting, and still terrified. "Are we going to die?"

At'Vax tried to console the kit. Dosadi generally do not sugar-coat bad news. "I don't know, kit. I'm not doing too good. He ripped me up bad and I think my legs are broken. You can make it though. Okay? You just gotta make up your mind you're going to. You're not hurt that bad."

Sharden curled up next to the man, worming under his arm and snuffling. "Don't die. I don't want to be alone. I'm scared."

Patting the child on the back as well as he could, he said, "That's up to the gods, kit. I'm just glad I was up here so that damn thing didn't kill _you_." He panted for a little while, watching the sky change to shades of red and orange as the sun set. "I guess I'll get my Warrior's Pendant at Kalinar. Gods this hurts."

They had been quiet for a little while, Sharden crying now and again as the night descended. At'Vax tried again, struggling through the haze that was clouding his vision and his mind, "Listen, Sharden. I don't think I got very long. You gotta get home. Something else is bound to smell all this blood. You can make it, all right?"

"I don't wanna go."

"Look, you're tough or you wouldn't have been up here. I _know_ you can make it back, even though it's going to hurt. _I_ did the right thing by saving you, _you_ need to do the right thing by getting home safe. Don't waste what I did by throwing your life away up here, all right?"

The boy whimpered against At'Vax's side. "I don't understand."

"Listen." he panted heavily. "I _chose_ to save you, Sharden. Sometimes you have to do awful things that cost you more than you can bear, but you _have_ to because it's the right thing to do. I would never have been able to live with myself if I had let that thing kill you. I would rather die – I'm _going_ to die – than let that happen to a kit when I could do something to stop it. I chose to die with honor instead of living with shame. But now _you_ have to do the right thing – You need to get home and live your life so that my saving you wasn't for nothing. It's going to be hard, and it's going to hurt, but you have to do it, all right? Do you understand now?"

"I think so. Can't we go together?"

"Sharden, no. I can't move my legs and it tore me up inside too much. I can't even sit up." he paused again, trying to marshal the strength to continue. "Promise me you'll get home, Okay? Live your life with honor. And tell my story, so that people know what I did."

There was a long, silent pause. Finally, in a very quiet voice Sharden said, "I'll try to. I'm sorry. I just wanted to show them I can hunt. I'm sorry." He buried his face in At'Vax's bloody fur and cried.

"You didn't do anything wrong. And you were brave too – you stuck that lox with your spear! If you were bigger and stronger you would've really done some damage." He paused again, trying to calm the child, "They're a little too much for just a spear though, unless you can sneak up on them." he breathed heavily, fighting back his dimming vision. Finally he managed to gasp out, "Sharden, stol t'het."

The little boy stayed next to him while his breathing got shallower and shallower and finally stopped altogether with a long shuddering exhale. He cried again, in pain and fear and shame and loneliness until he finally ran out of tears.

The stars were out and the moon was casting dark shadows in the blue-grey night when he sat up and gently petted the dead man's fur. His leg and arm were stiff and sore. There was no way he could use the leg, but he thought that he might be able to get the arm to work well enough to limp home if he went on his hands and feet. He could hear things in the night, snuffling and sniffing and that scared him. At'Vax had said other things would come...He began limping away from the meadow, heading back towards his parents' house.

Distance is a funny thing. The length from one point to another doesn't really change, but the difference between walking on two legs in daylight while full of hopes and dreams and crawling, injured, scared, and sad in the night greatly increases how far you have to travel. Sharden made it a couple miles before he found a hollow tree that he could curl up in and sleep for a little bit, exhausted beyond words. He had nightmares about what had just happened the entire time so that when he awoke, he was hardly refreshed.

But he had promised, so he pushed on. In slow, agonizing stretches he would go as far as he could, then find someplace sheltered and try to sleep a little bit before continuing on. It was a full four days and more after he had left that he finally crawled back into his house as the sun was starting to set. His mother, furious, snatched him up by the scruff of his neck and batted his ears several times.

"Where have you been?! Do you think you can just run off whenever you please? Do you think you get to just do whatever _you_ want to do? Don't you have any thought for anyone _else?!_"

He kept trying to tell her that he was hurt, but she would only bat his ears again and yell at him for interrupting. When she finally asked where he had been he tried to explain, "Kala, " (_mama_), "I wanted to go hunt and I..."

She shook him into silence and yelled some more, "You did _what?!_ You can't hunt! You're a _kitten_ you little chalit! Are you really that stupid? Are you?" She shook him some more. Finally she stopped yelling at him and dumped him into the little sleeping area that he liked. "You just _stay _there and be _silent_ until I tell you to get out, you hear me?!"

He shrunk into a little ball and pressed himself against the wall until she finally finished glaring at him and walked away.

Five days later, he was able to put some weight on his leg and was starting to get around reasonably well. His mother finally noticed him as he limped past on the way to the kitchen and asked, "What did you _do_ to yourself?!"

"I tried to tell you kala, I really did, but you were so mad at me, you..."

"Stop making excuses and tell me!"

"I wanted to go hunting and a lox caught me and this man saved me but the lox killed him an..."

"_WHAT!?"_ She reached down and caught him by the shoulders, crouching down to look at him eye-level. "Tell me the whole story!" Trembling, Sharden told the full tale, his voice getting quieter and quieter as it was obvious his mother was getting angrier.

When he finished his tale, his mother shook him once and commanded, "Don't you _ever_ tell _anyone _about this, do you hear me? They'll all blame _you! _It was _your_ fault! They'll lock you up!"

"No, kala, At'Vax said..."

"Listen you little idiot, he got _killed_ because of you! He didn't know what he was saying! You just keep your mouth shut or you'll get everyone mad at all of us! Is that what you want?"

"No, kala!"

"Then tell everyone...tell them you fell out of a big tree and a broken branch cut you. You understand?"

"Yes, kala." He sniffled.

"Now get out from underfoot. Go play or something. I've got a terrible headache."

Sharden limped out of the roundhouse and tried to decide what to do. If an adult saw him, they'd probably ask him what happened. Or try to take him to a doctor and that would get his parents in trouble. He didn't want the other kits to see him. He decided to go a little ways out into the woods, but not very far at all – someplace he could see the river maybe.

It took him two hours to make his way to one of his favorite spots – a trip that should have taken closer to half an hour. There was a kend'fee tree growing up out of the cliff and he could just jump into the upper branches and be able to jump back onto the cliff top. He flexed his bad leg and gauged the distance. With a squeak of pain he launched himself into space, managing to grab the branch by the trunk and pull himself onto it, letting his arms and legs hang off either side.

The breeze was fresh and cooling and it felt good on the hot, tight and crusty scab down his leg. His arm was lots better, though it was sore too. He just lay there, thinking, trying to decide what was so wrong with himself. Why did everyone hate him? Why was it that everything he did went wrong? He had the worst luck in the world. What had he ever...

"Pscheep!"

He slowly turned his head and looked down the branch. A very young felar was perched on the end of the branch, its head cocked and looking at him. Sharden's eyes widened and his ears focused on the little creature. Felar have narrow, pointed wings with three claws at the 'elbow', sharp beaks, long, flexible tails and fairly long, spindly legs. They are covered with tightly-interlocked brown and green mottled feathers with a pale blue underbelly and have large, sensitive eyes. They are primarily nocturnal. The closest analog to an earth-species would be a sort of owl.

Speaking softly, Sharden said, "Hello."

It turned its head around, then back again. "Scheep!"

"Aren't you afraid of me?" he smiled at the little creature. It stood perhaps 5" from it's feet to the top of it's head. Sharden was still draped on the branch, all four limbs dangling down.

"Peep"

"Would you like a treat?"

The small bird regarded him seriously, continually swiveling its head back and forth. Sharden slowly reached his hand down to his pocket and pulled out a little bit of jerked hewth meat he had managed to sneak out of the kitchen. He tore a little bit off and extended his hand towards the animal, the meat held between the tips of two fingers.

It watched him closely, then studied the proffered snack. In a blink-of-an-eye strike, it snatched the bit of meat and greedily swallowed it down, then looked back at Sharden with an emphatic "Tweep!"

For the next half an hour, Sharden happily fed the felar scraps of meat, alternating with a nibble or two of his own. Then the bird spread its wings and dropped off the branch with a 'screeeee' as it soared off on the wind. Sharden's whiskers and ears drooped when it left.

Returning to his dark thoughts, he wished that he could just fly away. He lay his head down on the branch and watched the river gurgling along fifty feet or so below him, and let the breeze bring him all the scents of the world. He closed his eyes for a little bit and just let his fur ruffle and his ears catch all the faint sounds. At least he had a friend for a few minutes.

A short while later, he heard a flurry of wings and opened his eyes, watching the little felar come swooping back onto the branch as a bigger bird chased it. "Swaak!" it said. When Sharden lifted his head, the bigger bird veered off.

Smiling he offered the little creature some more meat. Instead of taking it, it hopped back, then fluttered up, landing on Sharden's head with a satisfied "Tweep!"

Wincing at the sharp talons poking into his skull, Sharden tried very hard not to move. "I'm gonna call you Ja'Pak." (_little-fast) _"Do you like that name?"

Evidently, the felar had no objection to its new name as it only made a very quiet little 'heep' sound. Sharden remained still for quite some time, enjoying the breeze, the sight of the river and the forest, and the presence of the little bird perched on top of his head.

Sharden watched the sun work its way toward the horizon. The little bird had been quite content to nap atop Sharden's furry head and he was finding that the presence of a friendly being could radically alter the course of a bad day for the better. But he felt that he'd better be getting back home before his leg stiffened up too much, or something big came looking for him, or worse, his mother decided that he should be home.

He flicked an ear back and forth and called his new friend's name several times before there was a sleepy little 'peep'. For the first time in many days, Sharden felt happy. He reached his hand slowly up and placed it flat on his head.

"Hey, Ja'Pak. I need to go, so you're going to have to get down, all right?" There was no response, so he crept his hand closer until he felt the bird's feet touch the side of his hand. Gently nudging the felar's feet he coaxed him until he hopped onto his hand. With very patient slowness, Sharden brought his hand around and placed it flat on the branch in front of him. Ja'Pak watched him closely, but was showing no real fear. The boy spoke again, "I'll try to come back tomorrow with more treats if you're here, OK?"

Ja'Pak just stared at him. Sharden gathered himself up on the branch, close to the trunk and leapt for the cliff-top. There was a moment that he thought his leg had betrayed him, but the majority of his body weight landed on solid ground and he was able to scrabble all the way across. He turned and looked back, his heart racing with fear. The bird was still where he had left it, sheltered and sleepy.

Quietly humming to himself, Sharden limped his way back to home. For once, it didn't especially matter that no one said anything when he slipped through the door and into the kitchen. There was some Dosadi bread – a sort of rye bread – left out along with some cheese and what looked like a couple thevets. If he took the meat, he'd probably get his ears batted, but he thought he could get away with some bread and cheese, so he took a small piece of both and went to curl up in his favorite sleeping spot. He fell asleep thinking of brown and green dappled feathers.


	4. Chapter 3

_**CHAPTER 3**_

"_In examining disease, we gain wisdom about anatomy and physiology and biology. In examining the person with disease, we gain wisdom about life."  
― Oliver Sacks_

_**CITY OF HIRI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**AUGUST 2349**_

__Sava, his wife Milay, and Tharex were walking down the wide avenue of shops in Hiri. The rain was coming down with some force and the evening light was failing fast, casting everything around them in shades of grey. Milay had her arm through her husband's and her tail, discretely covered with her shawl, nearly wrapped around his as they walked. Her ears, properly concealed with a scarf flicked as she laughed lightly, "Tharex, your mind works in the most marvelous fashion."

He answered with a smile, "I'm sure that good Sava would like nothing more than to crack open my skull and pop out my brain so that he could compare it to others and find the folds and caverns that make me so unusual."

The taller man gave his friend a speculative look, "Well, now that you _mention_ it, if it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

All three laughed as they walked, their bellies pleasantly full after an evening dining at a fine restaurant. Milay spoke again, "Promise me that you'll both be careful on this expedition of yours. Winter is coming on fast!"

Tharex shook his head, "Women!" he said to his friend with a knowing wink. "Dear Milay, we are headed to the bottom of the world itself – the seasons themselves are reversed there. While you will be languishing in the snow and ice, we will be enjoying clear skies and mild weather."

"I refuse to believe such nonsense. And there will be wild animals and unknown savage peoples and what of diseases? I hear the two of you talk, you know. This is not the risk-free lark that you make it out to be in order to keep me from worry!"

Sava spoke soothingly, "Now Milay, we're at more risk from all manner of harm here in a major city than Tharex and I shall be on our..." He was interrupted by a small, narrow-faced little man stepping out of an alley with a drawn pistol.

"All of you! This way, or I'll shoot!" he hissed and motioned the trio back into the alleyway.

Milay squeaked in fear and Sava moved so that she was behind him. All three did as they were told and followed the robber into the narrow space between two buildings. Sava said, "Now then, don't do anything rash. We don't want any trouble."

"Just give me your money and any jewelry and there won't be any." He looked at Tharex, "And anything else you've got I might be able to sell. All them gadgets, say. And I'll thank you gentlemen to keep your hands where I can see them."

Tharex stepped slightly to the side of his friends. "I don't think I'd care to be parted from them, thanks just the same."

The thief pointed his pistol at Milay. "Now that's a shame. Because one way or another, I'll have them. It's up to you how I end up with them."

The inventor's face blanked with anger. The man had made a serious error by pointing his weapon at Milay. Tharex waved his hands theatrically and when the crook started to shift his point of aim back to Tharex, he said "What you do not understand..." he straightened his arm and pointed directly at the other man. There was a ratcheting clicking sound and there was suddenly a gun in his hand, which fired almost immediately. Once, twice, three times the large-caliber chunks of copper and lead slammed into the thief, the booming sounds of the shots echoing around them.

With a gurgling wheeze, blood pouring out of the holes in his chest, the weaselly little man collapsed into a heap. Seconds later, he lay dead at their feet. Milay screamed and Sava tried to calm his wife.

Tharex apologized, "I'm sorry you had to see that Milay, but he should _not_ have pointed that gun at you."

"Is he _dead?_"

"I certainly hope so. Those were my own design – fifty-caliber expanding bullets! If it hadn't been for the frame holding it to my arm and shoulder I would certainly have lost control of it."

Sava bent down to examine the body. "Yes, he is quite dead." He rolled the man over. "Good heavens, I've never seen any body torn to pieces like this except from artillery!"

With some pride, Tharex explained, "Yes, they're designed to open up like a flower upon striking flesh. By the time they reach the back, as you can see, they are each nearly an inch in diameter and quite jagged."

"I didn't realize you were even carrying a weapon!"

"That is part of the advantage of this mechanism – unless I straighten my arm energetically to release the spring-catch, the weapon stays well up the slide where it is out of sight. It can only hold three rounds of such size, of course. It is, by necessity somewhat small."

Milay was still horrified, "How can you two stand there and calmly discuss this as though it were one of your experiments?! That man is _dead_!"

"By his choice, not ours, Milay." Tharex argued. "Had I not fired, there is no telling what he would have..." he was interrupted by the arrival of three law enforcers.

The largest of the three commanded, "You three! Tell us what has happened here."

Sava stood up and one of the enforcers interjected, "Hey, I know those two! That's Sava Irani and the inventor Tharex Slayt!"

Another said, "And I recognize that man." he indicated the corpse. "A well-known robber."

The leader repeated, "Tell us what has happened."

Sava explained what had gone on, finishing with Tharex demonstrating the hidden pistol mechanism he wore.

"That is a marvelous thing for a gentleman to carry, sir. Everything we see here matches exactly what you have said." He turned to the other two enforcers. "Are we agreed?" When the other two nodded their agreement he continued. "We thank you for cleaning up some of our city's trash. This will put some fear into others like him!"

Later that evening, the three were drinking glasses of chilled ale as the two men attempted to calm the lady's nerves. In Drenian society, the women are sheltered and protected. It is extraordinarily rare to see a female Drenian in any role other than that of wife and mother. To come face to face with the violent death of another was shocking and distressing to Milay.

Milay, her glass shaking slightly said, "What if that man had shot me? My babies!"

Sava put his hand on her arm, "Now dear, you know we would never allow you to come to any harm."

Tharex joined in, "Certainly not. Especially not from such a..._stupid _man."

"And you were so calm! You killed him as though you were slaughtering a hlala! And then examining the corpse as though he were one of Sava's slides!"

Tharex grinned, "As experimental evidence, he no doubt found his finest hour."

"Gah!" She threw her hands up in the air.

Sava threw his friend a scowl and put his hands on his wife's shoulders. "Here, my love, let's get you to bed. Forget all about this horrid night." The two of them left the sitting room in the burrowed-out home, leaving Tharex alone for a bit. When Sava returned, Tharex was enjoying a pipe of anashi and staring speculatively at the flame of a lamp. "Really, Tharex! You weren't helping."

Not taking his gaze from the flame he answered, "I do apologize, my friend. But I just wonder how much people like that have retarded the advancement of society. Would that there were some way to find them out at birth and drown them."

Somewhat surprised Sava countered with "That's rather bloodthirsty, isn't it? Surely the raising of the child has a more significant impact than the blood of their birth? And even so, they provide a...a..._balance_. One cannot have a positive without a matching negative. Besides, did you notice anything unusual about him?"

"You mean other than the three very large holes through his chest?"

"I would think that to be usual after being shot at close range by something approximating an artillery shell...No, I refer to the stains on the fur of his chin and throat."

"Stains? I saw nothing." Tharex puffed on his pipe, concentrating as he tried to recall the image.

"Blood stains."

"The bloody cough? Here?"

Sava nodded. "It's always out there. The question is just whether or not it can get a hold on a vulnerable population. You may have done us more of a favor than you thought by shooting that cretin. Dead, he cannot spread the disease to others."

Tharex was concerned, "How was Torel holding out against it?"

"Well, had it not been for your airships, it would have taken much longer to get any sort of help or advice to them. They have a new name for it – They call it The Red Death. There is an additional symptom now. It's not just the deep cough with it's bloody froth, but the skin of the victim looks almost pink from bleeding under the skin.

"I instructed the Governor to seal the city and to barricade off the infected sections. I believe the disease is changing somehow. It is more likely to move from person to person now than it had been, and it seems even more likely to cause death."

"Did you obtain samples?" Tharex asked.

"I did. And so far, each slide I have prepared shows the same blue-stain-loving cells. I am convinced that Hilcox is right and that these are some living organism that somehow enters the blood of each infected person and causes the disease in some strange fashion."

"I agree with you, of course. But we need to prove it. And if these small creatures are indeed the cause, how can they be killed without killing the patient? Or better yet, prevented from entering the blood?"

"I do not know. But I fear that we are in a race against these things." Sava, said, lighting his own pipe.

"A race? What do you mean?"

"If I am correct – and I have begun gathering data on this – and the Red Death is somehow more able to infect people and that it is indeed more deadly, then we are in a race for life itself."

"You see the Red Death as an existential threat?"

"I do. Think my friend – as more and more people live closer and closer together in cities, moving in from the hunts and the farms, they become more vulnerable to things like this. I firmly believe that had the Governor of Torel not taken my advice, the entire city would fall to it."

"But that is a city of a million souls!"

"When I returned home, there were already more than fifty thousand dead and well over two hundred thousand in quarantine. Imagine, if I am correct and each person infects one or two others, how quickly the entire city would be ill."

"That is horrifying!"

"Indeed. And all the more reason for us to confirm this hypothesis and to find a way to combat these tiny invaders. They are far more dangerous than these warriors from space in your latest story."


	5. Chapter 4

_**CHAPTER 4**_

"_You should be nicer to him,' a schoolmate had once said to me of some awfully ill-favored boy. 'He has no friends.' This, I realized with a pang of pity that I can still remember, was only true as long as everybody agreed to it."  
― Christopher Hitchens, Hitch-22: A Memoir _

_**CITY OF C'ORLEAN, DOSAD**_

_**JANUARY 2350**_

Sharden had managed to bribe the little felar with enough treats that the bird would ride on his shoulder. It often hopped onto the top of his head, so he had taken to wearing a bandana to keep the claws out of his skull. It had taken him a month, but Ja'Pak had made a nest in a tree quite near their roundhouse and would fly to him as soon as he left the house. To date, it was one of the happiest years of Sharden's life.

Other kits still avoided him, of course – it only made things worse that he now had a severe limp and his one attempt at telling anyone any details about how he got the wound had been treated as a lie. Sadly, had the story been believed, it might have gone a long way toward earning him better treatment. Instead, it only isolated him further. But as long as he had Ja'Pak, he was no longer alone, and that made all the difference in the world to a lonely little boy.

More importantly for his physical well-being, the little bird had started bringing back his kills to share – usually thevets, but very rarely a small pashtol. Not only did the boy start getting more food, but by watching the bird, he began learning his own technique for catching the little rodent-like thevets. It meant stealing less food from his parents, which should have resulted in fewer beatings, but his mother in particular seemed to always find some reason to punish him.

Today, however, he was sitting up in a saien tree – a sort of blue-green conifer – sharing a thevet that Ja'Pak had brought back. It was raining, but that didn't bother Sharden much. He was used to the rain and only fluffed his fur more against the chill. The nice thing about the rain was that most of the other kits stayed indoors – especially Thur. The older boy was a bully; A rare thing in Dosadi society. And he took a particular delight in tormenting Sharden.

Sharden tore another bit of meat off the tattered remnant of the thevet they had been feasting on and offered the bits to Ja'Pak. The bird was growing fast, but was still occasionally chased by bigger birds who inevitably flew off when he took shelter near Sharden. That was another thing that was providing the boy with an improved sense of self-worth – for once _he _was the bigger one, the one able to offer protection. It felt _right_ to help his friend – and his friend always helped him by sharing his kills. It made him think that he was living up to the standard that At'Vax had set for him – to always do the right thing, no matter what. And this was easy.

He nibbled some more meat; for once his stomach wasn't rumbling at him and the little bird's bright eyes seemed to be smiling while they ate together. The rain came down with a soft hissing sound, punctuated with the deeper splats of the larger drops coming off of the tree's broad, flat needles. He let his eyes roam across the few roundhouses in view, the trees and bushes filling in most of the spaces in between, and the few paths running through this part of the forest.

His ear twitched, catching the sounds of claws scratching in bark as another kit scrambled their way up the tree. He sighed, although it didn't sound heavy enough to be Thur. No doubt it was someone else who wanted to pick on him, or challenge him to a fight so they could beat him up or...

"Hello." came a female voice from behind and below him.

He turned his head and looked at the newcomer. A girl, maybe a year younger than he was and about the same size with bright gold eyes framed with delicate black lines. He didn't recognize her at all, which was odd.

"Hello?" he asked cautiously.

"I've never seen you around before...Oh! Is that your pet?" she asked.

"I've never seen _you_ either, and I've lived here all of my life. And he's not a pet, he's my friend."

"Well, we just moved here a couple weeks ago, but I thought I'd met all the kits here. He's really cool!"

Sharden shrugged. "I don't have a lot of friends. Just Ja'Pak." he pointed his tail at the little bird.

She cocked her head at him and finished scrambling up onto another branch. "Why not?"

He shrugged again. "Cuz I'm small and my parents are different and people tell lies about me."

"Like what?"

"They say I steal, but I don't. They..."

"Oh! You're _Shaard_!" she said in sudden realization. When she saw his expression she quickly continued, "I heard people talk about you, but I don't believe everything I hear. I didn't mean anything by it – I just meant I understood now."

"My name is Sharden. I'm not a thief."

There was a short, uncomfortable pause. Finally, with a smile she asked, "Can I pet your bird?"

"I dunno if he'll let you, but you can try. And he's not mine. He just hangs out with me."

The girl slowly reached her hand down and across towards the felar. He bobbed his head and watched her closely, but made no real move to get away. He quickly looked at Sharden, and then back at the girl's hand, and back and forth. Finally, she held her fingertips a few millimeters from his back and then gently touched the feathers, stroking softly.

Sharden watched her. "What's your name?"

An adult voice sounded from below, "Corleen! Come away from that boy, right now!"

The girl sighed, her ears drooping slightly. "Coming, kala!" She smiled at Sharden and scurried down out of the tree and back into the rain.

Puzzled, Sharden watched her go, her mother shooing her along with a firm hand on her back. He wondered if she really meant that, when she said that she didn't believe the things people said about him. Maybe she'd want to be friends.

A few days later, Sharden decided to risk going to where the other kits were gathered together so that he could see Corleen again, just in case. Ja'Pak was out flying around somewhere anyways. So he slowly crept towards the meadow where the group of kits his age usually played and socialized. As he got closer, he could hear laughter and the occasional sounds of a play-fight. He watched from the shadow of some bushes for a few minutes, gauging the mood of the other kits before deciding to edge a little closer.

Corleen was there, pouncing on a younger boy and laughing. Sharden thought she had a very nice laugh. After a few minutes he hesitatingly stepped into the clearing, close to the little girl, hoping that she might notice him, but not really believing that she would.

However, after a few moments, her whiskers twitched and she turned her head and smiled, "Shaa..rden!" She bounded over to him and rubbed her cheek along his shoulder, much to his surprise.

Not used to such a greeting, he started to recoil, but caught himself. "Hello." he said, shyly.

"Did you bring Ja'Pak?" she looked around for the bird.

"No, sometimes he goes off and does his own thing. I was surprised he let you pet him, he's usually afraid of people."

"Oh. That's okay though." She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at her other friends who were walking towards them. "We were all going to go hunt thevets! Did you want to hunt with me?"

Stunned, he asked, "You...you want me to hunt with you? Really?"

Before she could answer Thur had come up and snorted loudly. "Don't be stupid Shaard. No one wants to hunt with you."

Sharden noticed Fianos hanging back a bit, and Kelara was there too, standing just behind Thur. He wanted to run away before Thur challenged him to fight again, or Fianos said _anything_, but he didn't want to lose the chance to hunt with someone – maybe a _real_ friend.

Before he could work through his answer, Corleen spoke up, "Why not? I bet he's a good hunter! He's got a felar he taught to hunt!"

Thur and Kelara just laughed. "Shaard's always got the best stories – they're just all lies. Probably stole someone's pet. And he can't hunt. Look at that limp! Hey, get him to tell you how he got the big scar fighting off a lox instead of the _truth_ where he fell out of a tree!" The other kits laughed.

Sharden bristled, "I did _so _get it..."

Thur batted his ears, "Yah, right, I heard your mom telling the healer all about it. Always trying to be better than everyone else, aren't you Shaard!"

Corleen was a gentle soul. She didn't know why everyone was being so mean to Sharden, but so far he'd been nothing but nice. "I bet he can _too_ hunt. And I've _seen_ the felar, I even got to pet him!" she turned back to Sharden, "Go on! Show them you can hunt!"

The boy was as surprised as he had ever been. No one _ever_ stuck up for him – except for At'Vax, and he was dead because of it.

Thur laughed again; He had seen Sharden's attempts to hunt before. Even Fianos was looking skeptical. But Sharden had been getting more food lately – and by watching Ja'Pak had come up with his own method that brought results more often than not. Thur waved his arm "Yah, Shaard, go get a thevet. But no lox, okay? We don't want you to lose your _other _leg." everyone laughed.

Sharden looked at Corleen who smiled at him. He lifted his chin and sniffed the breeze. "Okay. I will." looking at Thur he added, "Better than _you_ can you big stut." (A stut is a sort of wild ox with three sharp horns, very thick hide, and three-toed feet. They lumber about the grasslands without much grace.)

Thur reached out to bat his ears again, but Sharden ducked under the swing and took a few limping bounds away from the group towards where he could smell some thevet. As he got closer, he let his ears and nose guide him and he began to creep slowly. Much to the surprise of his audience, instead of dropping down onto all fours, he stood tall, rising up as far as he could, letting his head swivel around. He could hear the laughs of the other kits, but ignored them to focus on locking down the little scritching sounds he was hearing.

A few moments later, he had located the thevet, his eyes allowing him to see the slight motion of the animal as it nibbled on some treat. He slowly crouched down and then leapt high into the air, coming down hard, claws extended, onto his unsuspecting prey. There was more laughter behind him – the traditional method was to get down low, almost onto your belly, and slink slowly and silently forward until you were in range for a quick rush and a swipe with your claws. The laughter stopped when he stood back up, the thevet hanging from his jaws.

When he walked back to the group, Corleen had a big smile on her face. She glared at Thur, "See? I told you!"

Thur glared back. "So he got lucky. That wasn't hunting, that was...some spastic jumping around is all. Where's the skill in that?" He smacked Sharden on the back of the head.

Sharden took the thevet and offered it to the little girl, ignoring the bigger boy.

She smiled at him again, "Thank you." she said, taking the treat.

Thur quickly hooked his foot around Sharden's bad leg and tripped him. "You're still a liar and a thief. Probably put a dead one there so you can pretend to hunt."

Sharden protested, "I did _not!"_ and got up.

"You're calling _me_ a liar?! _I_ have honor you little chalit. That's it, I challenge you, right now!"

Sharden had little choice – this was how things usually went around Thur. He'd manufacture some reason to get you into a challenge and then beat you up. He was a lot bigger than the other kits in his age group and his mother was a skilled fighter; Had she known that her son was as much of a bully as he was, she would've been deeply ashamed and dealt with the issue, but the other kits had an unspoken agreement that tattling was dishonorable.

Sure enough, the two squared off and Sharden knew he was going to get thrashed again. He decided he was at least going to get some shots in first. When Thur reached for him, he again decided to imitate his little feathered friend. Instead of ducking low like he usually did, he again jumped as high as he could, watching Thur's surprised expression as he came down onto the bigger boy, hissing, spitting, and clawing for all he was worth, gouging the bully's face deeply.

Thur's surprise lasted only a second – enraged now, he grabbed Sharden's back legs and threw him onto the ground, landing on him heavily and knocking the wind out of him. Then he began to beat him badly. Sharden had long since lapsed into insensibility when Corleen jumped on Thur's back, yelling "Stop! You're killing him!"

Still furious, Thur grabbed the girl and threw _her_ to the ground and shifted his beating to her. After a few moments the other kits intervened, grabbing the thug and pulling him off the two smaller children. Thur shouted at the two bloodied kits, "Don't you _ever_ do that again you little teegs!" and reached his hand up to staunch the bleeding from the deep cuts Sharden's claws had left on his face.

Thur had, finally, gone too far. Kelara looked at him with distaste, "That was really dishonorable, Thur."

"_She_ jumped _me_! While I was in the middle of a challenge! She didn't even..."

Fianos interrupted, "You had already won, you should've stopped a long time ago."

But Sharden was hearing none of that conversation. Managing to get back onto his hands and feet, he blearily focused his eyes on Corleen's bloody face. Someone else who had done what was right for him, and paid for it. Crying even more now, he ran from the meadow, his battered ears still ringing loudly.

Nearly an hour later he slunk through the back door of his home, his face still bloody and swollen, his eyes blackened and puffed nearly closed. His mother and father were waiting for him. She quickly snatched him up by his scruff and gave him a shake. She didn't even seem to notice that he had been beaten so badly.

"Where were you _this _time you inconsiderate little chalit?! We've been waiting _hours_ for you!"

Sharden could smell the baxalo smoke, so there was no question what they had been doing while they were waiting. He tried not to cry more, it was so miserably unfair. What did he do _wrong_ so often? They hadn't even been home when he left. Other kits got to go to a teacher or go play or get treats or...

She shook him again. "We were _going_ to take you flying! But now _we're_ going to go and _you're_ going to sit here and think about maybe being considerate of others for once in your life! And we're going to fly right over the house – you'd better come out and wave at me so that I know you're still here or you will be in _so _much trouble when we get back! Do you hear me?" along with another shake. She glared at the limp boy for a few moments then gave him a toss into his usual sleeping spot.

He could hear his parents talking to the neighbors – they didn't care much for his parents, but would keep an eye on him if asked. Even if that meant that they were basically just making sure he stayed in his little prison.

Sharden curled into a tight ball and cried hard. Flying was one of his favorite things to do – more than climbing, more than swimming, more than hunting. His parents laughed the strange sort of detached laugh they always had when they were stoned and left him alone, heading towards the airfield. It took him about half an hour to finally cry himself dry. He lay there, sniffling until, finally, a small flame of rebellion began to burn. He stood up and decided he _wouldn't_ stay home. He knew how to sneak out so the neighbors wouldn't see him. And he wasn't going to wave at them when they flew over either. He'd go to the cliff and see if Ja'Pak was there. If he couldn't fly with his parents, at least he could watch Ja'Pak fly.

Despite his aching bruises and inflamed face, he hauled himself through a side window that was out of sight of the neighbors, then quickly dashed underneath a bool bush. Freezing in place, he checked to see if anyone had seen him. From here, he was home free; And no one had. He smiled. Finally, something was going his way today. He scooted the rest of the way to the path and began to make his way towards the cliff, even though it meant he wouldn't be home when his mother flew overhead, or even when they made it home for that matter. With any luck at all, they'd take to smoking again and be so lost in a haze when he got home they wouldn't even remember. That happened sometimes.

He wasn't even two miles into his hike when he heard the plane – that was surprising. His mother must have decided to fly over the house first thing. Usually they were gone for hours; he thought she'd fly over on her way back to the airfield. He swallowed a lump in his throat, then decided that was a good thing. It meant more time for her to forget to be mad at him.

He heard the plane go into a dive, the increasing whine of the single engine marking it's descent. He turned around to see if he could watch; his mother was a fairly skilled pilot. He saw the green and white plane swoop back into a climb, and then roll onto it's wing and dive again. He knew she was looking for him and probably getting madder by the second that he wasn't there. He grinned. At least _this_ time he really _was_ doing something he shouldn't. The plane rolled over again, the engine screaming.

There was a flash, then a fireball and a huge plume of smoke rising over the trees in the distance. After a moment's shocked hesitation, Sharden was running as fast as his bad leg could carry him; blaming himself the entire way. If he had been home – where he was supposed to be – he would have done what he was supposed to and waved and they would have flown away. Instead she kept trying to get his attention and he wasn't there and it was his fault!

Fifteen minutes later, he could see the fire fighting equipment and the people clustered around where his home had been. Now, it was a crater with a raging inferno in it – the firefighting foam and suppression-gas were hitting it and boiling away almost instantly. The fire crews were having a difficult time just keeping it from spreading to neighboring roundhouses. He had no idea what to do – it was his fault! If he came out, everyone would blame him – he should have done the _right_ thing!

Then he saw the woman who lived next door talking to one of the investigators, their conversation reaching his sharp ears even over the noise of the fire-fighting equipment and the roar of the fire. "I can guess why she crashed. They were always smoking baxalo, the house stank of it."

The investigator shook his head. "It plays hell with your depth perception and everything else. I never understood why people take to smoking it."

The neighbor woman hesitated, "Well, in this one case, it might be for the best, actually."

Confused he asked, "How's that?"

"Well, they had a little boy. But he didn't fit in very well and his parents weren't the best at taking care of him. We gave up offering to help – they took offense every time. He was really a pathetic little thing. We always felt bad for him."

"Ah. Those are always sad cases, but what can you do? It's their lives. Was he aboard the plane?"

"No, he was at home. She was punishing him again by making him stay in his sleeping spot while she stunted overhead. I guess she just pushed it too far. At least it was quick for them all."

The investigator shook his head sadly. "What a waste." He looked over at the neighboring roundhouse. "Your home is going to be pretty scorched from the heat, it looks like."

"Yes. It's OK. There are a few families that usually cycle through here. I think we stay more than most though. But we'll all get together and clean it up. We'll take care of the...mess too. We can get everyone in this cluster to pitch in and rebuild it."

"I don't think there's going to be anything left to clean up – that fire is burning so hot it'll destroy everything. Even the remains of those poor people."

"Again, that's probably for the best. I don't know of any family for them, or any friends even. It'll be up to us to remember them next year at the mirru'chev spelar't" (_ed: Memorial Games_).

Sharden backed more slowly into the brush. They thought he was dead! They didn't know it was his fault! He could run away and no one would know – he could find someplace new to live – no Thur! No one calling him Shaard! He continued to back away until he got to where he could run – and remembered Ja'Pak. The little bird's home had been in the tree just a short way from his own house. He wondered if he was OK. Even if he was, the crash and fire had probably terrified him. So Sharden worked his way back towards his former home, around the side where Ja'Pak's tree was, making a few quiet 'peep' sounds to try to catch his attention.

Finally, there was an answering 'cheep!' and his friend flew down and perched on his head, fluttering his wings and fluffing his feathers. He jogged away from the outskirts of C'Orlean and into the wilds, intending to head towards some other city. He made it almost five miles before dark, when he found a hollow tree to curl up in, Ja'Pak flapping his way up to the branches above him.

It was then that the reality of his parents' death finally caught up to him. While he had been running, he could focus on the idea of starting anew, of finding someplace to fit in. But once he stopped, all the guilt and shame and loss came crashing down. For the second time that day, the little boy curled into a tight ball of fur and wept until he could cry no more, eventually dropping into an exhausted and restless slumber.

When he awoke the next morning, he continued to try to find his way to a new city. But Dosad is a mostly wild planet, with no real highways or even well-worn trails from city to city.

_**TERREL DISTRICT, WILDERNESS, DOSAD**_

_**JUNE 2350**_

Six months later, a starved, flea-infested Sharden was stumbling through the deep forest, each day more lost than the day before. Lonely, hungry, lost, terrified – had it not been for Ja'Pak's companionship and the food the bird brought, he would not have survived. Slipping in the rain, mud plastering his fur, Sharden struggled through the woods. Even Ja'Pak seemed dispirited, ruffling his feathers against the chill and the wet.

Sharden sat down at the base of a big hartappat tree, exhausted and shaking with hunger. His shoes were badly worn, his clothes tattered and every inch of him was sore. His head sagged down onto his chest and he spoke to his friend. "I'm so sorry, Ja'Pak. I thought I knew the way. I thought..." he sobbed again in frustration. Nothing he did ever turned out right. He couldn't even find his way back to C'Orlean – he had tried after a couple days, but had only gotten turned around more. The tiny creature could sense he was upset and peeped quietly in support.

The boy sniffled again, then raised his head. He sniffed deeply. Smoke! He could smell smoke! And...Meat. Someone was cooking something. That meant _food_! And people! _"Oh thank the gods, I'm saved."_ he thought. He scrambled to his feet and tried to figure out where the scent was coming from. The rain made it difficult and he cast about several times, losing the scent and panicking before locating the trail again. It took him nearly an hour in the deepening gloom of the late evening, but he finally saw a small cabin built in the middle of nowhere.

The cabin was an odd looking structure. Square and made of logs – a very different look than any building Sharden had seen before. But there was smoke coming out of what was obviously a chimney and it smelled heavenly. He had no idea where he was any more. And at this point, he didn't care – desperation drove him. He rushed up to the door, his bad leg dragging even more than it usually did due to exhaustion and hunger. It wasn't even the same kind of door he was used to – it didn't slide, it looked like it swung open. He pounded loudly and called out "Help me, please!"

The voice that answered was as strange as the cabin. "Who's there? What's wrong?"

"Please!"

There was a shuffling sound from within and then footsteps. The round object in the middle of one edge jiggled and the door swung into the cabin. Sharden gasped in surprise – He'd heard of humans before but he'd never seen, or smelled one. He was tall, maybe over two meters, and completely bald all over except for a fringe of black and grey fur along his chin and over part of his face. His eyes were a milky color and he smelled...really strange. A sort of musky scent. And he was _pink_! Even more strange, he was wearing a mystic's green, cowled robe and sandals.

"Who is there?" The accent sounded flat and toneless, the pronunciation distorted and there were none of the inflection a tail, whiskers, or ears would provide.

Sharden realized that the human was blind – he was looking out into the rain, but not seeing him. "Please help me. I'm so hungry and cold and lost."

Hearing the voice coming from about his belt line, the man looked down, "T'mewr?" (_Ed: "A kit?"_) He stepped backwards and to the side, "Come inside. What are you doing out here?"

Sharden quickly went inside out of the rain, Ja'Pak fluttering away and into the trees. "Oh thank you, thank you!" His nose twitched – whatever was cooking it had pashtol in it and some herbs and vegetables and it smelled absolutely delicious. It had been three days since he or Ja'Pak had managed to get even a thevet.

He jumped as the human put a hand on his shoulder and then his other hand on the top of his head. The man spoke again in his odd, flat accent, "What is your name...boy? May I let my fingers see you?"

"My name is Sharden." he tried to puzzle out what his last sentence meant and then figured it out. "Oh! Yes. May I please have something to eat? It's been days. I'm starving to death."

The man quickly ran his hands along Sharden's face and ears, then feeling along his shoulders and ribs through the worn, tattered shirt he had on. "Of course, let me get you something. My name is Selenda MacLaren. Well, that's what you folk call me. My name is really Angus MacLaren among my own people." He walked to a side-board and took down a wooden bowl and spoon then stepped to the fire, ladling up some stew into the bowl. Still without looking at anything in particular, his blind eyes unseeing, he set the bowl down on the table unerringly. "Here Sharden, sit and eat."

The boy didn't need any further urging and began wolfing down the food, finishing the small bowl in a very few seconds. Still, he felt he should pay close attention to his manners – Selenda were the mystics, the Dosadi version of priests. They spent their time studying the spirit world and the afterlife and trying to find ways to gain favorable attention from the gods for people. They were sought after for their widsom and advice or for intercession with the gods and spirits. "Can I have some more, please, selenda? I'm very hungry!"

MacLaren laughed. "And wet, and cold – I could feel your ribs boy; you really have been going without for a long time. Let's make sure this stays down before you shovel any more down your gullet." He took up a kettle of tea and poured the boy a cup.

Sharden looked longingly at the stew pot and the smells coming from it. Then he suddenly remembered Ja'Pak. "Oh! Please selenda, can I bring my friend? He's really small! He's just a felar. He won't eat much! He's hungry too!"

MacLaren looked surprised. "You have a felar for a friend? How did you manage that, boy? Well, yes, if you can talk him into coming inside at least. Everyone's welcome here."

Sharden stood up and went to the door. Studying it for a few moments; he figured out how to operate it after seeing it work the one time. He stepped into the rain with some of the cooked meat in his fingers, making little peeping noises. In a flurry of wings, the hungry little felar landed on his shoulder and snatched at a small shred of meat, gobbling it down quickly.

MacLaren heard the sounds of the bird, but remained still so as not to startle it. Sharden kept feeding him little scraps as he slowly walked through the door. Ja'Pak looked around suspiciously, but Sharden was talking softly to him, assuring him that nothing bad would happen. Finally, slowly, Sharden shut the door and glided back to the table, sitting down and taking up more little bits of food for his friend.

"I wish I could see that. I can hear him, and I smell wet feathers, so I know he's there, but...I have to admit, I never thought I'd encounter such a thing."

"He's my best friend." Sharden fed him another little scrap before the bird began to refuse any more treats. "He's my only friend." he concluded sadly.

MacLaren thought about this for a moment. "Where are your parents, boy?"

"They died. It was my fault." He sniffled again, but managed not to cry.

"What about your relatives? They must be worried about you?"

"I don't have any."

MacLaren frowned. This sort of thing didn't _happen _on Dosad. "But your th'mew? Surely there was someone..."

Whiskers drooping, ears sagging, and tail limp, Sharden interrupted, "I don't have any. I'm alone."

Though he couldn't see any of the telltales, the misery and aching loneliness in the boy's voice was more than enough for now. MacLaren changed his approach a little. "What are you doing out here in the wilds, boy?"

"I...I wanted to go to someplace new. Someplace where everyone didn't hate me. Someplace I could find..." his voice broke and he struggled not to cry again.

The old man reached his hand out and rested it on Sharden's shoulder. "It's okay, boy. You're safe now. You can stay here until we can find someplace for you to be, all right?"

Barely daring to hope, Sharden asked, "Who are you? Why are _you_ out here? You're a human, right?"

MacLaren was no fool – he knew the Dosadi love of stories, and the boy's reluctance to share his own was obvious. Smiling, he settled back in his chair and began to tell his tale. "Ahh! You should be careful, boy, I'm all alone out here and you're asking me for a story! I'll talk _both_ your ears off. Then where will we be? I'm blind and you'll be deaf!"

Sharden actually giggled at that and took a drink of tea, his ears pricking up and his whiskers flicking back in surprise. The Dosadi version was made by steeping the dark blue-green leaves of the kop bush, and contains a mild, calming depressant rather than a stimulant. It wasn't a treat he had ever been given and he could feel it warming him from the inside out, while the nearby fire dried his wet fur.

Ja'Pak decided that now was a good time for a nap and quickly fluttered up into a dark corner rafter and promptly fell asleep.

"Hmmm." MacLaren rubbed his beard. "Do you know what Starfleet is, boy?"

Sharden snorted. "_Everyone_ knows about Starfleet. I'm not stupid."

"Didn't think you were, just checking. Well, I was in Starfleet for a lot of years as a Xenologist – that means someone who studies other cultures. I specialized in peoples who look like Dosadi. The Cait, the Kzin, a few others. I spent a lot of years living with those people, learning about them for Starfleet. But I fell in love with the Dosadi. The planet, your culture, your people – everything.

"I spent the last 25 years here. When I retired from Starfleet, I elected to stay here. I still have family back on Earth, but I just haven't really finished here yet."

"How come you're selenda? And how come you're blind? How do you do anything?" Sharden was running his finger along the inside of the bowl, trying to scoop up more of the stew.

MacLaren could hear him sucking on his finger and smiled again. "Let's try a little more of that, shall we, boy?" He took the bowl from Sharden and put another ladle of stew in for him. "If you start feeling like you're going to throw it up, stop – and there's a bathroom right over there, OK?"

"Yes, please, thank you." He eagerly dug into his second helping.

The older man returned to his story, "Well now, the two are related, of course. In learning what I could about your people, I encountered an old selenda named Tak'eel. He and I got along quite well and he began to teach me more and more of the mystic's ways. He had two other students with him. M'eeth and Nieau. Hoo! The stories I could tell you about _those_ two. Anyway, they helped me build this cabin; this place has a lot of connection to the spirit world.

"I spent 10 years traveling with Tak'eel and learning from him." He grinned, his eyes staring off at nothing. "I'm afraid he converted me. I had been an atheist, like most of Starfleet, but by the time Tak'eel died, I was his top student, and eager for more."

Licking his chops, Sharden belched. "Sorry." Then hiccuped. "Oops. *Hic*. So why are you blind?"

Reaching over and ruffling the fur between the boy's ears, he chuckled. "You are impatient, aren't you Sharden? Is that what everyone calls you Sharden? No nickname?"

Ears drooping again, he said, "No. They called me Shaard."

Appalled, the old man objected, "I am _not_ calling you that. I'll call you...Shard."

Curious Sharden stated, "That's almost the same."

"No, it's shorter. And it means something very different. In my language, a shard is a small, very sharp fragment of something bigger. And I think you're sharp. So I'll call you Shard."

"It's a lot better than Shaard."

"_Lots_ better. But, you were asking about my eyes. Do you know what Dejathi is?"

"No?"

"Well, have you ever heard of baxalo?"

Shard's face clouded. "Yes. It's horrible. My parents smoked it all the time."

"Ahhh." MacLaren thought, _"There's part of that mystery solved."_ He continued, "It's just a tool, Shard, like any other. One that can be misused, sadly. But used properly, it is amazing what it can do. Dejathi is a ceremony we mystics use to try to open our minds to the spirit world. So that we can communicate in ways we couldn't before; see, hear, and sense things that we couldn't otherwise. We make a raath by weaving the branches of the bool bush together very carefully so we don't hurt the plant. Then we go inside and light the baxalo incense and inhale the smoke and let it soak into us. The smoke is toxic though, as you know – even to Dosadi.

"To humans, even more so, although I was unaware of the long-term damage that it did. I did Dejathi too often, and it cost me my sight in this world, though I like to think that I can see better in the other world now."

Shard looked at the strange man. "Is that how you can hunt? Do the spirits show you where to go?"

MacLaren grinned again. "No, Shard, though they tell me and show me things that are very hard to explain. People bring me food and the few things that I need when they come to me for help or advice. There is a small stream just a few yards away that I can find very easily. And I've been living here so long now that everything has become a habit. I don't need to see to know where my things are."

Shard yawned, a long, drawn out affair showing sharp white teeth against the pink of his mouth. "I'm sorry." he apologized.

Smiling kindly, "For what, boy? You've clearly had a hard time of it. But the spirits brought you to me for a reason, we'll just have to figure it out. For now, why don't you curl up there. We can share my bed, or if you prefer there's a spot by the fire that should be comfy."

Stunned Shard hesitated for a moment. "You'd...you'd really share a sleeping spot with me?"

"Sure, boy. Always better to sleep with a friend."

"No one's _ever_ done that."

Surprised again MacLaren said, "Well it's about time that changed, Shard. I'll be up for a little bit yet. Go ahead and get curled up and I'll come to sleep later."

His belly full, his body warm and settled in the chair, Shard asked in a sleepy voice, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

MacLaren cocked his head in a very Dosadi-like way. "Why _not, _Shard? You seem like a decent sort. It's the right and the honorable thing to do." Nodding to himself he continued, "There's a reason you found me, Shard. Some reason you've had a hard time. But those bad times are over now, and we'll figure out..."

He was interrupted by a soft snore coming from the little boy.

The tall human stood up and gently lifted the kit into his arms, noting that as soon as he picked him up he cringed and whimpered in his sleep. Sadly looking down with his blind eyes, he cradled him for a few moments, humming quietly. Then he carried him over to his bed – a typical human design rather than the recessed, circular Dosadi version – and smoothly laid him down and covered him up with a light blanket.

Softly stroking the silky fur between his ears, he talked to himself; an old habit of an old man. "Who are you, boy? There's more to you than meets the eye." he chuckled at his own little joke. "The gods have something mind for you, don't they? And I can't tell if it's something wonderful or something terrible." He was silent for a little while, letting his mind see what his eyes could not. "Perhaps a little of both."


	6. Chapter 5

_**CHAPTER 5**_

"_There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved."  
― George Sand_

_**TERREL DISTRICT, WILDERNESS, DOSAD**_

_**JUNE 2350**_

__The next morning saw Shard waking up curled around a hairless arm, and with the sound of snoring in his ear. He had a brief moment of panic before he remembered what had happened – Like most Dosadi, he usually slept in short bursts of a few hours, but last night he had been so worn out that he had apparently slept through to the next day. He lay very still, trying to decide if this was still a dream, and then finally decided it was real – he could see Ja'Pak staring down at him from a rafter. And he had to go to the bathroom – that never happened in dreams.

He tried to get out of the strange, square bed without waking selenda, but only managed to sit up before the old man opened his milky eyes. He inhaled deeply and said, "Good morning, Shard." he wrinkled his nose. "First thing, my young friend, we are going to get you cleaned up." He scratched at his beard. "And make sure we get rid of the uninvited guests you have riding along...They seem a bit bloodthirsty."

Sharden looked ashamed and though blind, MacLaren sensed it. He chuckled, "Relax, Shard. I'm not blaming you – anyone who's survived what you have would need a bath! Where did you used to live, anyway?" He sat up and smiled – he could hear the kit squirming. "Why don't you go use the bathroom first, then come back and tell me?"

"Yes, selenda!" Shard agreed and hurried off to take care of business with an obvious tone of relief in his voice. A few minutes later he came back to find the old man bustling about getting a breakfast of bread and cheese ready. After a few seconds hesitation he decided he should answer rather than waiting to be asked again – he wasn't entirely sure which would get him punished; speaking out of turn or not answering. "I lived in C'Orlean, selenda."

MacLaren stopped what he was doing and turned towards the child. "Are you serious?"

Shard flinched. "Yes, selenda." He didn't _sound _angry, but...

"Boy, that's over 300 kilometers from here. Just how long have you been lost?"

Miserable, Shard answered, "I don't know. A really long time. My clothes and shoes are all worn out and please don't be mad at me, I didn't _mean_ to be..."

"Shard," MacLaren interrupted him. "I'm not mad at you. You've done nothing wrong – I'm impressed! To have survived so long on your own when you're so young...how old _are _you?"

"Six, I think."

Again MacLaren was surprised. He was very small for six. "When's your birthday, boy?"

"In the wintertime. Svaldagt (_ed: roughly equivalent to December_), I think."

"You don't _know_? Didn't you have a celebration every year?"

"No, my parents forgot a lot of things, and sometimes they didn't really know where they were, one time they forgot who I was for a day."

MacLaren was shocked again. There should have been a relative who would have taken the boy in; addicts were glad to be rid of kits. Even a neighbor, or _someone_. "You said your parents died, and you don't have any relatives, or a th'mew?"

Sharden shook his head and then remembered the man was blind. "Yes, selenda. And then I left to find someplace else to live."

He stroked his beard for a few seconds. "I think you found someplace to live, boy. Things happen for a reason. Here, sit down and eat something, then we'll get you cleaned up."

After breakfast, he took Shard down to the stream and with a liberal application of soap, brush, running water, and elbow-grease, got him squared away and bug-free. Usually kits would put up a fight about getting a bath, but Shard meekly sat still, not even protesting at having his ears soundly scrubbed, inside and out.

All of these things were building a strong picture in the mystic's mind. "Shard, I want you to understand something, okay?"

"Yes, selenda."

He put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Whatever has happened to you, it wasn't right, or fair. You've done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve the bad things that have happened to you. Bad people have a sense about them that I can see. You have none of that, all right?"

"Yes, selenda."

He smiled down at the kit. "You don't need to be afraid, Shard. I'm not going to be mad at you unless you give me a _really_ good reason, and I'm not going to punish you for all the things I think you've been punished for, and I'd like you to be my friend. I know it'll take you a while to learn, but you'll see. Things will change."

Before Shard could answer the kindly old man there was a friendly shout from near the cabin. "Maaaaa! Selenda!"

"Eh?" MacLaren turned his head. "C'mon, boy! Up!" he helped the kit stand up from the pool he was sitting in, then handed him a big, rough-spun towel and picked up the tattered remnants of his clothes. "We've got visitors." He thought to himself, _"Good thing Dosadi don't have a nudity taboo – this kit's clothes aren't fit for anything but burning any more."_

They made their way back up to the cabin and found three adult Dosadi hauling the dressed-out carcass of a stut and carrying packs. When they caught sight of the old man, they crossed their arms across their chests, palms flat. The older male in front called out, "Pitt'barl't, selenda!"

"Ango'vax, Kamren. Is that Finlon and Varet I hear skulking about behind you?"

Varet, the older man's mate, and Finlon, his younger brother, both laughed. Varet spoke, her voice a delightful contralto, "You might be blind, but you see better than most, selenda...Is that...a _kit_ with you, selenda?"

With the same unerring accuracy, he put his hand gently on Shard's shoulder. "This is Sharden. He made his way to me from C'Orlean."

There was complete silence from the three newcomers for a few moments. No one would question such a flat statement from a selenda but it was incredible. Shard looked down, he knew they thought he was lying.

MacLaren continued into the silence. "Starved, filthy, his clothes in tatters and his shoes worn to nothing, it was a very hard journey. I'm only just now getting the trail washed off from him."

Kamren's ears flicked back. Looking at the boy it was obvious he hadn't been eating much for a very long time and his eyes had a haunted look to them. "Krav't'mewr?"

MacLaren laughed, "No, he's not a spirit child, Kamren. Just a little boy – but I have no doubt the spirits guided him to me for some reason."

"Yes, selenda." He surely wasn't going to argue with a mystic. "We brought you some supplies!"

"For which I am thankful, Kamren. The meat will be very helpful, especially now that I have the boy. And the vegetables as well, and also the cloth. The boy needs new clothes – Did you happen to bring new needles as well?"

The three looked at each other. Finlon, his ears partly back answered, "Yes, selenda. We thought to surprise you with some summer-weight cloth and the like." It was always unnerving how he did that.

"Thank you! And what can I trade you in return for these gifts?"

Varet answered, "We want a kit of our own, selenda. We want your advice and your help to make sure things go well."

MacLaren smiled. "Excellent! High time you two got around to starting your family. Why don't you two come inside and we'll talk about it. Finlon, would you do me an honor?"

"Of course, selenda!"

"Take the boy hunting? He needs teaching."

At that moment, Ja'Pak decided that he wanted to see just what was going on around his friend and came fluttering in to land on Shard's shoulder. There was again a shocked silence from the three adults. MacLaren made the introductions, "This is the boy's friend and guide, Ja'Pak."

Not one of the three had heard of anyone having a wild felar just decide to be friends. Occasionally someone would try to raise a chick from an egg, but they inevitably flew off shortly after they learned to fly. Finlon whispered, "Krav't'mewr". Then speaking in a normal tone of voice, "Follow me, Sharden. You can show me how you hunt pashtol!"

Ten minutes later the two were crouched at the edge of a wide meadow downstream of MacLaren's cabin. Finlon whispered, "All right Sharden, what do you think?"

"Please call me Shard." he smiled. It was the first nickname he had ever had that he _liked_ and he was going to enjoy every moment of it. "But, I don't really know what to do. I can get a thevet sometimes though."

Finlon looked askance at him. He looked to be five, maybe or a very small six. He should be very used to hunting pashtol by now, maybe even the goat-like k'lox. "Okay, Shard. Um, well, see if you can get a thevet then."

Nervous now and wanting to make a good impression, Shard began his own peculiar hunt. Finlon was watching him with puzzlement and some amusement. He looked like his little bird friend. The adult was even more surprised when the kit came back with one of the little rodents hanging limp from his mouth.

"I'll be damned. Did you figure that out on your own?"

"Yes. Well, Ja'Pak taught me. No one else ever really taught me anything."

"Huh! Well, let's change that, shall we? How did you get that limp, anyway, Shard?"

Everything on the boy drooped. "You wouldn't believe me, so I fell out of a tree, okay?"

Finlon sat back on his rump. "Why wouldn't I believe you, Shard? Let me see the leg, please?"

"Fine." He stretched his leg out and let the young man examine the scar, bare of fur and puckered.

"This isn't from falling out of a tree, Shard. What happened?"

After a few seconds, Shard took the risk and told the true story, but going no further. He finished, looking down at the ground, waiting for the laughter.

"Gods! What a tale!" he gently ran a finger down the old wound. "If you had been taken to a healer, that would have been fixed." He studied the boy's anguished face, the scent of shame and sorrow strong in his nose. "Not something you want to talk about, I see." He stood up. "Now then, Shard, the first thing about hunting thevets is to realize how sensitive they are to vibrations – the slightest bump on the ground will alarm them."

It was well past noon when the two returned to the cabin. Shard was completely wiped out, but had the biggest smile on his face that he had ever had. He was also carrying two thevets and a fat pashtol, while Ja'Pak rode along, perched on top of his head. Finlon was still having a hard time getting used to that. And for his part, Ja'Pak wasn't at all sure he was used to Finlon and watched him suspiciously the entire trip back. When they came walking up, the other three adults were sitting on the ground, leaning against the sun-warmed wall of the cabin, enjoying the afternoon and chatting.

The younger man asked Shard, "You know how to clean them, right, Shard?"

"Yes! I'll go do it!" And he ran off to butcher the carcasses, but making sure to run past the other three and ensure that they got a good look at his trophies on the way. For the first time in his life, Shard heard people cheering his success. He barely needed to run- he could simply have floated down towards the river.

Finlon sat next to MacLaren. "Selenda, did the boy tell you about his leg?"

"No, not yet. But I'm sure he'll get around to it. It sounds like he has a heck of a limp."

"He was attacked by a lox and speared it – another man died saving him. He was never taken to a healer."

"Ah, that fits. He seems to have no family, and I'm not sure any family he ever _did_ have were anything you would call responsible. His parents were baxalo addicts, apparently." He thought for a bit. "You would do me a favor if you'd take a small sample back to town and see if you can find any records for the boy. There must be _someone_ looking for him."

"Yes, selenda."

During dinner, they managed to talk Shard into allowing a swab of his cheek, and the three younger adults took turns telling stories – and listening to MacLaren's commentary on those stories; Sharden was enthralled. Finally, the group of them curled up in a big puddle of fur in front of the fire while MacLaren took to his bed. Although he had been invited by the other Dosadi, Shard instead curled up next to the old human again.

Two weeks later found Shard tidying up around the outside of the cabin while Ja'Pak made various cheeping comments from the roof. Both bird and boy had added a significant amount of weight and Sharden was wearing a newly-made pair of loose shorts. MacLaren came outside, holding several sticks and some thin cloth. "Boy! Where are you?" It had become a running joke – MacLaren always seemed to know where Shard was to the millimeter, and always pretended he had no idea. "Confound it! Always hiding!"

Shard giggled – it had taken days for him to understand that the man was teasing, not actually angry, and part of him was still afraid that he would be punished.

"Ah! I hear you!" He rounded quickly to where Shard was standing very still. Smiling he held up the sticks. "Ever see one of these before?"

"Sticks?" he laughed, "Yes, Selenda."

"No imagination. Here, watch." The old man carefully threaded one long stick through a sleeve in the white cloth, then through a hole in a thin, flat piece of tan colored, lightweight meritha-wood. Then again on the other side, hooking the back of the cloth on the same flat piece of wood. A moment later, he had done the same with the two pieces of the tail-plane and he was holding a small glider, perhaps half a meter in wingspan.

Shard was hypnotized. "Where did you get that, Selenda? It's beautiful!"

"I made it, Shard. Take it."

Shard quickly put his hands behind his back, "I didn't take it! I didn't touch it! I promise! I..."

"Shard." MacLaren interrupted, "It's okay, I didn't accuse you of taking it, I'm _offering_ it to you – it's a gift, from me to you."

Disbelieving, Shard asked, "What? I don't understand."

"A gift? Shard, didn't anyone ever give you something before? A toy? A present? Anything?"

"No, I got punished if I had anything. My parents always had a lot of things, but I wasn't allowed to touch any of them."

"_Hoarders."_ he thought. It was a sort of mental illness among Dosadi, and fairly rare. Independent and pig-headed as hell, the Dosadi were also incredibly cooperative; They usually shared almost everything. A few small personal items, some individual weapons, some clothing – these were usually all a Dosadi 'owned'. "Well, Shard, I made this just for you. I want you to have it – It's yours now. I can't see it fly, so I want _you_ to enjoy it."

Shard was floored. "You're sure, selenda? You're not teasing?"

MacLaren resisted the urge to sigh. "I'm sure, Shard. It's yours, boy. Give it a throw, er. Here, let me show you how. If you hold it like this, right about in the middle – you can feel where it balances – and you just move your arm forward like this and let go and off it'll fly! And Shard, don't worry if it breaks, okay? They're easy to fix." He reached down with one hand and gently took hold of one of Shard's, pulling his arm up and placing the glider into his hand.

Unbelieving, Shard looked at the toy. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever held. He looked at MacLaren who was smiling at him. He wanted to throw it – wanted to see it fly, but … there were so many fears raging through his mind. What if he lost it? Or if he was just going to yell at him, except he had never yelled at him yet. But...

"When you throw it, Shard, you have to tell me what you see, okay? That way I can enjoy it too! Go ahead, give it a throw!"

Finally, almost too afraid to try, the kit drew his arm back and gave the little plane a gentle toss. The fabric wings caught the breeze and the delicate tan and white plane soared gracefully across the clearing. Ja'Pak decided it was a competitor and with a loud scree of challenge took off after it, diving onto it from above and fluttering away.

Shard, delighted, laughed and chased after both the plane and the bird, his fears forgotten in the joy of play. It was, quite possibly, one of the nicest sounds MacLaren had heard in many years. He sat down and leaned against the wall of his cabin, to enjoy the morning.

Several throws later, he heard a new sound – a second high pitched scree and more happy laughter from Shard. Listening closely, he could hear another young felar joining Ja'Pak in pursuing the evil glider. And since Ja'Pak wasn't reacting aggressively to the other bird, it wasn't hard to guess the newcomer's gender.

He was still leaning back against his home, listening to the boy and his feathered friends and the glider when he heard Finlon's voice calling out "Maaaa! Selenda!" from the woods. Walking up to the cabin, the younger man caught sight of the boy and shouted out, "Pitt'barl't Shard!" and saw the lad take off after the glider again, the two felar chasing it as well.

"Welcome back, Finlon. Where is your brother and his mate?"

The lad laughed. "Working on starting their family, selenda. Whatever advice you gave them..." he shook his head. "I'd almost feel sorry for him if he'd stop wearing that silly grin whenever he comes up for air."

The old man grinned. "Good. The world needs more kits. So, any news?"

Finlon became serious. "Quite a bit, selenda. The boy _is_ from C'Orlean. Except he's dead."

"What? How is that possible?"

"His parents crashed a plane into their house, killing all three of them. There were witnesses."

MacLaren listened to the boy's laughs and the felars' calls to one another. "For dead, he's awfully lively."

"Indeed. And he was truthful on the rest as well. There is no one. No family except some distant cousins. No one to claim him."

"There is a reason he came to me. I just don't know what it is yet."

"Yes, Selenda. But I have hard news as well. Your brother on Earth? He is very ill and has sent a message asking you to return home. There are family matters to be settled."

MacLaren blew air through his lips. "I haven't been back to Earth in many years, Finlon. And now there's the boy to consider as well. But...What a pickle."

"The bonds of family, selenda. I understand."

"Perhaps one of you could look after the boy while I made the trip?"

"Selenda, I mean no offense, but he is krav't'mewr. He is meant to be with you. None of us could possibly care for him."

"That boy is no more dead than you are, Finlon. Someone screwed up is all. You're a warp engineer, stop behaving like some primitive. Who's the selenda, here after all?"

"You are, selenda. And yes, that seems likely on it's face, which doesn't make him any less of, or less guided by, the spirits and I'm not getting in the middle of that, nor is anyone else. To you he came, and with you he should stay."

"Pig-headed damn'd cat. You people listen only when you choose."

Grinning wickedly Finlon agreed, "Yes, selenda. We will look after the cabin while you are away."

Snorting derisively, MacLaren commented, "Well, I guess I'll have a seeing-eye cat then."

Watching the two birds stunting around the glider, Finlon asked, "The bird has a mate?"

"I'm thinking yes. She just showed up a little bit ago, but they've gone from thinking the glider is an enemy to thinking it's something to show off to each other around, if I'm hearing their calls correctly. I have a feeling they'll be setting up a nest right near here and will be waiting for Shard to return."

Finlon looked back down at MacLaren, "I'll take the boy's information to the council while you're gone, selenda. He will need a teacher and training beyond what you can give him."

MacLaren smiled, "Thank you, Finlon. I'll travel easier without that worry weighing me down."

Three days later, MacLaren and a very nervous, very wide-eyed Shard were waiting at a landing field to board a shuttle. The old man reached into an inner pocket on his robes and handed the boy a small ear-piece. "Here, Shard. Put this in your ear, OK?"

"Yes, selenda. What is it?" He fiddled around with it until he found the natural fit of the device.

MacLaren smiled and said in Standard, "It's a universal translator, Shard. It will let you understand almost any language spoken to you. You won't be able to speak it back, but you'll know what's being said."

His jaw dropped open. One ear heard nothing but gibberish while the other whispered in Dosadi. "That's wonderful! Will there be a lot of other languages spoken?"

"Probably. We're going to Earth for a week, and it's a week's trip each way. You'll hear more Standard than anything else though, which is what I was just speaking. The crew of this cargo hauler are Tellarites, so you'll probably hear that, but they'll likely speak to us in Standard."

"Will they understand me?"

"Only if they are using a universal translator. Dosad is a small nation, Shard. There are very few outside the Imperium who speak it or understand it without such a device."

"Oh."

He put his hand on Shard's head and ruffled the fur between his ears, "Don't worry so much, Shard. Stay close to me and you'll be fine. But Tellarites have a rather short temper, so do be careful to stay out from underfoot."

Finally, they boarded the little shuttlecraft and Shard felt his weight shift as it launched itself towards space. It was the first time he'd ever flown in anything other than his mother's plane. He could barely contain his excitement, peering out the one small porthole-like window next to his seat, watching the view as the green and blue of his home-world shrank into the distance and the ice-blue sky turned to black.

The old human just sat back and smiled. He couldn't enjoy the view, but the sounds of breathless wonder coming from the youngster next to him was more than enough. And probably much too soon for Shard's tastes, MacLaren felt the subtle vibrations of the shuttle's skids settling onto the bay floor of the cargo-hauler. He stood up and said, "All right boy, let's go find our quarters. Stay close."

'Stay close' might as well have meant 'plaster yourself to my side'. Excited as he was, Shard was also terrified. The Tellarite crew weren't as big as MacLaren, but they were bigger than he was, stockier, and looked strong, and mean. He didn't want to anger them – and definitely didn't want to dishonor selenda by misbehaving.

The only real disappointment Shard had for the journey was that there were no windows for him to look out of. For the first day, he refused to leave MacLaren's side at all, and was so nervous during meals that he barely moved, much less attempted to speak to anyone. Their quarters were small, dingy, and very warm.

By the end of the second day, however, he was more relaxed and tried hard to listen to the conversation of the Tellarite sailors manning the vessel. He was even willing to go a few paces away from his guardian. That evening he asked, "Why are we on this ship instead of a Starfleet ship? Aren't you in Starfleet?"

MacLaren laughed. "Not for many years, boy. And Starfleet doesn't exactly have a regular run to Dosad. We're not part of the Federation. But there's always cargo going every which way, so it's easy to get a spot on a ship, usually. I was able to call in a favor, so we were lucky in that regard."

"Do you think we might see where they fly it? See outside maybe?"

The kindly old man shook his head, "No, Shard. The Captain's a sour old coot and he's not going to tolerate outsiders on his bridge. Maybe we'll have better luck on the trip back. Here, let me teach you how to play a game."

"What is it?"

"It's a card game from Earth, called Cribbage. It'll help you learn your numbers, too."

"I know them! Well most of them."

MacLaren resisted the urge to shake his head – Shard had been taught very little by his parents. "Yup! But this will help you to _really _know them, Shard. You'll have to do a lot of math in your head – and for you it's going to be _extra_ hard, because the numbers are different from what you're used to."

"How can they be different?"

"Let me show you." MacLaren took out a deck of cards and started laying them out, patiently teaching the lad his numbers and counting and then explaining the difference between base-10 and base-8 numbering and how to count to fifteen. Shard was an intelligent boy and found the concept of the game to be fascinating, and fun. To his natural curiosity, the base-10 numbers seemed like a secret code and the game a puzzle. The math started out to be far beyond anything he knew – but by the time they reached Earth, he had the basics and was able to play some; with a little help here and there.

He had also taken to exploring the area close to their quarters while MacLaren slept. Shard had now had weeks of proper food and care and was rapidly returning to more normal behavior for a Dosadi kit, including their usual sleep pattern. For the first time in his life, he was starting to feel like life might not be an endless series of horrible events separated by the merely tolerable. It was almost two AM on their third day and he was finding every nook, cranny, and opening he could fit his nose into in the hallway by their little room.

His earpiece rumbled "You there! Kittycat! What are you doing?!"

Squeaking in fear, he spun around and shrank back into himself. Standing in the corridor were two burly Tellarite sailors. The second one said, "Do you need some milk, kitty?" and laughed.

Surprised, Shard answered, "Yes, please! I like milk!"

The two men laughed even louder at Shard's cluelessness. "You only get milk if you catch a rat, kitty!"

Shard had thought they were teasing him – but it was just a straight trade. "There are rats? I know what those are! They're like thevets! I know how to catch them now! Where are they?!"

Looking at each other with even more amusement, the two Tellarites realized they might have stumbled onto a good thing here. Like any ship, vermin came aboard at almost every port and getting rid of them was always a challenge; But no one was going to ask a full-grown Dosadi to play mouser.

"Um..." the bigger one hesitated. "Well, all over. If you can catch one, we'll get you some milk, all right, kitty? Bring 'em to us down in the galley."

Not entirely sure what a 'kitty' was, Shard enthusiastically agreed and slipped away to go find his prey. The two men shrugged at each other and headed off to get their chow. The rats aboard their ship had gotten bold, but were still quick enough that the stocky Tellarite's had little chance to catch them; And they were smart enough to avoid both bait and traps.

No one had _ever_ thought enough of Shard's hunting skills to _ask_ him to hunt for them. And to trade too! He focused hard on everything that Finlon had so recently taught him. He didn't so much walk down the companionway as he glided silently, carefully working his bad leg. The cargo ship wasn't like the high-class Federation starships; The floors were often grates and could be easily lifted up to access the areas underneath them. They also often had holes in them.

Shard's nose twitched. It wasn't a thevet scent, but small, gnawing rodents smelled much the same no matter where they were from originally. He froze and listened intently, letting his ears rotate back and forth, zeroing in on the rat's position. With more care than he'd ever done anything before, he slid slowly closer, and closer.

The creature was a Norwegian rat and it was nearly a foot long, with a tail to match. Weighing nearly a pound, it had long since learned that nothing aboard had the speed, or dexterity to catch it. He sat on his haunches, nibbling on a ration bar he was holding – he had evidently been raiding one of the cargo holds. His eyes were watching, but he was facing the wrong way to see Shard, his ears had no chance to hear him and his nose had no category for 'Dosadi'.

The boy crouched very slowly and smoothly and then in a lightning-quick move his right arm lashed out, claws extended and hooked the rat, snatching him towards him and then nearly instantly snapping it's neck with his other hand. Ecstatic at his early success, Shard lowered his head and said a quick prayer of thanks to the gods who had guided him, then set the carcass by the seam between wall and floor and resumed his stalk.

MacLaren stretched and yawned as he opened his sightless eyes. He listened for a few moments, hearing nothing but the quiet chirps and whirrs of a small ship in warp flight. Evidently Shard had gotten up early and gone exploring. The thought of it warmed his heart. Watching the kit slowly come out of his shell was worth any effort. He had high hopes that this trip to Earth and back would do him even more good.

He sat up and put his feet into the sandals he had left in their usual place. As always, the boy hadn't even nudged them when he got into bed, or out. He laced them up his calves, then pulled on the coarse dark green robe that had been his daily wear for so many years. A quick trip to the bathroom up the hall, then find the boy and get some breakfast.

Despite his blindness, once Shard had shown him the way to the galley and the head and back, he could find it on his own. For other journeys however, he needed to rely on the boy's eyes. Shard was a good kit and would probably be back waiting for him by the time he returned anyway. However, when he returned, relieved and washed, Shard was not there.

After half an hour of waiting, he began to worry. It wasn't like the boy to deliberately do anything wrong, but he truly had horrible luck. Perhaps he had run afoul of one of the crew, or some regulation, or found one of the many ways to get injured on a starship. MacLaren stood up made his way to the door and stepped outside, waiting to hear someone walking towards him. Finally, he heard the footsteps of one of the younger crewmen.

"Excuse me, please. Have you seen the boy that travels with me?" he asked in Standard.

The man stopped. "The kittycat?"

MacLaren grimaced. While the term could be used in a backhanded way to show affection or friendship, usually it was used as a racial epithet. "The young Dosadi. Can you tell me where he is?"

The Tellarite snorted, "I think he was taken to the Captain. I have duties. Good day." and he stormed off.

_Now_ MacLaren was worried. He had no idea what the boy had done, but he was obviously in deep trouble once again. He sighed heavily and began feeling his way towards the nose of the little ship. The bridge had to be that way. After a few intersections he finally stopped someone with a lighter tread that was likely a female; They were short-tempered like all Tellarites, but less so than the males at least. "Can you help me, please?" he asked.

There was the standard snort and "What are you trying to do, old human? Walk into a warp drive?"

"No, I'm trying to find the bridge. My young charge was taken to the Captain."

She laughed, a deep sound, "You're going the wrong way. The bridge is forward."

"I'm blind - I thought I _was_ going forward from our quarters."

"The corridor curves. Here, I will guide you. You have enough to worry about if you're seeing the Captain."

"I know he has a foul temper, even among a people famed for being...shall we say irritable?"

"That's putting it tamely. He spaced two of our passengers the last trip because they caused a problem with the warp drive."

Silently saying a prayer to the gods that Shard's curiosity hadn't gotten him into that sort of trouble he commented, "I find that hard to believe. That would be murder – the Federation wouldn't stand for it."

"It's only murder if you're caught. And people who travel on freighters are often those who do not wish to be seen. Or missed."

"Well, I surely hope the boy hasn't gotten into any mischief. And I thank you for guiding me – I can get around fine in areas that I know, but here..." he left the rest unsaid and fervently hoped that her story was just that – a story spread through the crew; Most crews felt their captains were the living reincarnation of Captain Bligh.

Soon – but not nearly soon enough for MacLaren's fears – they arrived at the bridge. The door 'shooshed' open and MacLaren was gently guided inside.

The Captain grunted, "What's this? Why are you bothering me with someone?!"

The young woman who had helped him said, "This human needs to see you. The kittycat is his."

Shard's voice called out, "Selenda!"

"I'm here, Shard, it'll be okay, don't worry."

"Worry?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes, why were you brought here, Shard? Er, I mean, Captain, what has the boy done? I'm responsible for him, he's very young and has never been on a starship before."

"Did you teach him?" the Captain's gruff voice sounded again.

MacLaren heard the sound of a straw sucking up the last of something, and what sounded like soft, furry feet gently bumping against something. Confused now, he asked, "Wait...What? Teach him what? What did he do wrong? Why was he brought to see you?"

The Captain laughed. "Wrong?! He's caught over two dozen rats in the last six hours! He's the best ratter we've ever seen! I bought a cat on Earth one time, the rats beat it up and it ran away!"

The slurping sound came again and MacLaren asked, "Shard, what are you doing?"

But the Captain spoke first, "Get him more milk! If he keeps this up, we'll be rat-free by the time we land!"

MacLaren couldn't help it. He started to laugh in relief as he realized that Shard must be sitting there drinking milk through a straw and kicking his feet against whatever he was on. He wasn't going to take the boy's triumph away by pointing out that they had almost certainly been making fun of him at first, or by explaining the stereotype of the cat being rewarded with milk for a successful mouse-hunt.

That night it was a very tired, very satisfied and proud little boy who made his way back to their quarters. He was as quiet as...well, as quiet as a mouse when he came inside and began getting ready for bed. He had skipped all of his usual sleep cycles that day, and was very ready for a long nap. He started to take his now grubby shorts and shirt off when MacLaren spoke. "Welcome back, Shard."

Squirming with happiness he announced, "I got almost _thirty_ today!"

Smiling he answered, "That's wonderful Shard. You're doing really well at hunting! The crew sounds like they really value you!"

"They do! I got milk and snacks and I got to eat any of the rats I wanted!" He finished getting himself ready to sleep and curled up next to the old man.

MacLaren wrapped him up in a hug and the boy quickly fell asleep – purring loudly. MacLaren looked down at him and realized it was the first time since he'd met the lad that he had purred. He thought that it was possible this was the first time in his entire life Shard had done so. He softly stroked the kit's fur. The trip was worth it just for this.

The next several days went much the same – although the rats learned quickly that there was a predator aboard. He didn't manage to clean them out entirely, but he ravaged their population. For them, Shard was a near extinction-level event. The Tellarite crew grew used to finding Shard in the strangest places – watch-standers would suddenly see reflecting green eyes peering at them from a vent, or under a floor, or sandwiched behind equipment. The usual result was a high-pitched scream from the surprised crewman followed by a decidedly satisfied kit-chuckle and more often than not the poor man's mates teasing him for screaming like a little girl. Shard enjoyed _that_ nearly as much as the hunting.

Several times, crewmen had to caution him from getting into or onto dangerous equipment. Shard worked harder than anyone aboard – for the first time, he was needed, and respected – and for his hunting skills besides! When he wasn't hunting, he was learning how to play cards – and incidentally, math.

MacLaren would only chuckle and make sure that the kit got _some_ sleep, took breaks to clean up and didn't get _too_ many treats from the Tellarites, who had adopted him as something between a pet and a fellow crewman. Since the rats were, in essence, trapped aboard the ship, Shard had the advantage, but there was no way MacLaren was going to tell him that. Hearing the boy's joy and pride at being seen as useful and valuable was a jewel beyond price.

When they arrived at Earth, the Captain gave Shard a small piece of jewelry in appreciation for his work aboard. A small, copper starburst with a silver disc in the center that would cling tightly to any fabric – or even fur! He informed MacLaren that they were welcome to ride along on his ship any time, on the condition that Shard worked off the price of their passage.

The two travelers picked up their few belongings and made their way from the shuttle landing pad to the customs and immigration check-point. Shard was continually looking down and stroking his finger along his prize. Twice, not paying attention, he nearly stumbled. Although MacLaren quickly figured out why the boy had suddenly become so clumsy, he said nothing.

It was only when they were interviewed by the immigration officer that they ran into trouble. The man was an unpleasant functionary; Small, ill-favored, and fussy, his soul fit his stature. "I'll need you both to put your hands on the scanner. You'll feel a small pin-prick as a sample is taken. And sir, I'll need to see the documents showing that the boy is in your custody."

MacLaren picked his hand up off the scanner. Shard was just staring at it without touching it. "What do you mean documents? He's a Dosadi. They don't do a lot of documents. Besides, he's an orphan."

The little man sat back and looked at them both with distaste. "A foreign national? I'll also need to see his citizenship documents, certificates of immunization, travel authorization papers, and his visa."

MacLaren tried to think – it had been many years since he had traveled anywhere, and then it had been as a member of Starfleet, not as a civilian. He doubted even _he_ had ever had all that crap. The Dosadi looked at paperwork as an affliction – Shard had none of it. "Surely you're joking. The boy is in my charge, and he is also acting as my eyes. We are only here for a week, my brother is ill and we have family matters to attend to."

"I'm very sorry to hear that." The statement was automatic, and completely false. "Assuming you are a Federation citizen, once you supply the other paperwork, I can get you the forms for a one week guest visa for him."

Shard asked, "What happens at the end of the week?"

As an immigration officer, he had a permanent UT implant. He smiled – it didn't look like it fit on his face – "Then the police come for you and lock you up for being an illegal alien. You do _not_ want to get caught without the proper documents. That is a very serious offense."

MacLaren snorted. "Look, I'm blind. I've been living on Dosad for a couple of decades, I've long since lost any of that paperwork, if I ever had it, and the boy has never had any of it. Surely the DNA and scan show my citizenship?"

Sniffing, the official glanced at his computer console. "Do you have any other identification documents?"

"No. Look, why all this foolishness just for a visit to my home planet? Do you think I'm smuggling Dosadi kits?"

Unamused he said, "People have been known to do worse. He has fur. There are those who would sell him for his skin, see him made into a rug. The rules must be followed to ensure that he is safe, and that you are who you say you are and do what you say you will."

Shard was horrified. Sell him for his _skin_?!

MacLaren was getting angry. "Look here." He took a breath. "Are you in Starfleet yourself?"

"No." He sniffed again. "I am a civilian. I have a real job."

"Oh really. Do you have a comm system I can use?"

"There is one over there by the wall, but you'll have to get back in line again."

"Fine. Lead me to the comm system, Shard." The two walked to the far wall; The office wasn't swamped, but it was busy. MacLaren made a quick call and then they sat down to wait.

It didn't take long. Less than thirty minutes later, a woman in the uniform of a Starfleet Captain came walking in, caught sight of MacLaren and shouted out, "ANGUS!" She hurried over to where he was getting to his feet.

"Angus! I haven't seen you for fifteen years! Are you..." She looked him up and down, "Yes, I can see you are still living on Dosad." She laughed, "Silly question." She turned her head to Shard, "And who is this?"

MacLaren made the introductions. "Captain Sally Straw, I'd like you to meet my young friend Sharden, although I've taken to calling him Shard. Shard, this is a very old and dear friend, Captain Straw of Starfleet, who was in command of the _USS Black Elk_ the last I knew."

"Sadly, I command a desk now. They called it a promotion. I'm glad to meet you Shard." She reached down and gripped the boy's shoulder.

He quickly reached up to her bicep – as far as he could reach – and squeezed, minding his manners. "Pitt'barl't, Rus Straw."

MacLaren hastened to explain, "He's just got an earpiece and only speaks Dosadi. He can understand you, but unless you turn your own UT on, you'll have to puzzle it out."

She grinned, "Well teach him Standard already! Anyway, what's the difficulty?"

"Paperwork. We've got none."

"Ohhhh. How long are you here for, Angus?"

"A week. Robert's quite ill and we have some family matters to attend to before he passes."

"I think we can make an exception for a week. Follow me." She walked back to the counter, cutting off the line and waiting until the clerk finished with the man he was working with. Captain Straw pulled out her PADD, and displayed it for him. She spoke to the man's desk computer. "Computer, identify me and my authority."

The man's terminal answered her, "Captain Sally Straw, Starfleet, Sciences Sector Commander. Assigned..."

She interrupted it. "Computer, End." Then she turned to the clerk. "Do you recognize my rank and position?"

Swallowing he said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. This man is Commander Angus MacLaren, one of our top xenologists. I will vouch for him personally. We'll be on our way. Thank you for your service." She put her hand on MacLaren's arm and said, "Come along, Angus, Shard. I'll see you to your transport."

"Ma'am! There are several forms and..."

She ignored him completely and led the two past the counter and out into the sunlit streets of London.


	7. Chapter 6

_**CHAPTER 6**_

"_Until he extends the circle of his compassion to all living things, man will not himself find peace."  
― Albert Schweitzer_

_**JUNGLE, GREAT SOUTHERN CONTINENT, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**JUNE 2350**_

Sava took another long drink of water from the bottle slung on his side and looked up at the sky again. Even in the depths of winter here, it was warm, perhaps as much as 70 degrees on average. During the summertime it would reach a sweltering 80, or even 85. To a people used to temperatures in the 40s and low 50's, it was a challenge. There were many small insects as well, and they persisted in getting into the fur, requiring immersion and scrubbing with strong soap laced with an irritant to get them out. He found it astonishing that people found a way to live here.

For his part, Tharex barely seemed to notice the heat, or the bugs. The village they had discovered on their last expedition was one of half a dozen in this extended tribe and was a hard three day's journey from the coast where their vessel was lying at anchor. It was a constant battle for Sava and the other members of their expedition to pry him away from this interesting plant or that insect specimen, or some interesting geologic structure. While Sava appreciated Tharex gathering so many samples for him, he generally preferred to pick his own.

"Sava! Sava! Come quick! You must see this!" Tharex called out from some distance off the trail they were following.

Looking at his companions with a wry grin Sava said, "Well, apparently it is my turn to retrieve him." and pushed the broad-leafed greenery apart to go and see what it was this time. This time turned out to be a tremendous tree, perhaps 40 feet across at the base with many holes up and down the trunk.

"Yes, Tharex, that is truly a large tree. However, I do not think that we can take it back with us. It's bigger than the ship."

His friend looked back at him with a wounded expression, his ears drooping. "Sava! How could you think such a thing! That would kill the tree – but look here – insects!" Tharex handed over a magnifying glass to his friend and pointed with his finger. "See what they are doing there."

Sava took the glass and studied the little creatures closely. It appeared that they had honeycombed the tree with many chambers and pathways – in some ways it resembled a multistory building, a rare thing for his people. "What are these little channels here?"

"That is what I wanted you to see! Look up here – trace the path – and look within the small holes along the channel."

Sava did so. "Is that...water?"

"Yes! Yes! These insects have created a method to harvest the rain water that runs down the tree and using hydraulic principles the water is sucked into these small storage cups within their city. Is that not the most amazing thing you have ever seen? One wonders if their society has as much complexity as ours after seeing such a thing."

Sava laughed. "They are still insects, my friend, but that is truly amazing. What is even more amazing is that our fellows have not yet bound you to carry along as cargo. Our goal is the village, or have you forgotten?"

Sniffing disdainfully, Tharex answered, "Of course I haven't. I was momentarily distracted is all. There is so _much_ to learn here!"

Helpfully steering his friend back to their waiting comrades Sava continued, "Yes, and equally as much where we have _planned _to go. Once we are there, you'll be just as distracted. Come."

When they arrived at the village it had clouded up and began to rain in great sheets of water with thunder rumbling across the jungle and lightning flashes creating a strobe-light effect. The village itself was a collection of dens burrowed into the bases of a cluster of the big trees that the insects had made a sky-scraper out of. The expedition arrived, soaked to the skin and slogging through the now muddy trail to see the villagers looking at them curiously from their nice, dry homes. Clearly these strangers were even more insane than they believed when they first arrived a couple years ago.

Not one of the explorers could have cared a whit for the rain. The light was beginning to fail and the heavy clouds only made it darker faster. But they had arrived! The documentation and research possible with a primitive people was priceless. The Continental Society had fronted the money for this expedition and several of the members were staking their entire reputations on the outcome of their researches here.

The group of ten men made their way into the copse and waited for Sava to speak to the chieftan. None of them spoke the villagers' language, and they didn't speak Hirsi, the language of the expedition. However, in their prior visit the team had managed to work out a way to communicate using gestures and a few pidgin words in each other's language. Without leaving his nice dry den, the chieftain indicated several of the tree-homes on the far side of the village. He was attempting to convey something else, but Sava wasn't understanding.

Tharex said, "He seems rather animated about something."

"Indeed." Sava answered. "And there seems to be fewer families than the last time – I wonder if there was some sort of split in the tribe?"

"Perhaps, but the face he makes when he points at the empty trees. Does it seem sad to you?"

"No, nor mad. More...Sick? Ah! Sickness?" He turned back to the chief. His people were smaller than those of civilized lands and rather than red fur, they were colored a sort of tan. And though they still had black markings on their ears and tail, both were smaller than those of the explorers. Sava attempted to make a motion like he was vomiting.

The tribal leader shook his head emphatically and instead feigned swooning, then laying his head back with is tongue out.

Tharex guessed, "Ah, not a flu then, something that makes them collapse?"

"Perhaps...wait...hes...oh! Be careful man!" The chief had drawn a small knife and was grasping Sava's arm, raising alarm in the foreigners. But he only mimed cutting the taller man.

Guessing again, "Were they bleeding them to treat the illness?" He pointed at the chief, and then at Sava, made a sick-face and gestured making a small cut.

The chief shook his head again and pointed at Sava's mouth, nose, and eyes, and again pretended to cut his arm, making motions of something coming out of him.

"Ah!" Sava got it. "They were bleeding! They would collapse and then bleed from the face." he mimed his own version and got a confirmation from the little chief, who pointed at the empty homes again. "He is warning us – that's it. We can stay there if we wish, but they fear the spirits of the dead, or that there is sickness there."

Tharex laughed. "I fear no spirit." And shouldered his pack again. "Still, I wonder where this disease comes from?"

Joining his friend as they headed for their lodgings Sava agreed, "Indeed. I shall take samples from as many of these folk as will allow it. Perhaps I will find small invaders there as well. I've been most meticulous in my notes as to what things are present in the blood of the healthy versus the blood of the sick."

"Still working with Hilcox to prove his theory of invaders in the blood?"

"Of course. Idiots. They seem so willing to accept man flying through the air carried about by big bags of hydrogen but so _unwilling_ to accept that some small animal in our blood can cause illness."

Tharex laid his pack down and began getting his things arranged for their stay. "But I would have thought that you had proved your point? Two cities now have followed your advice and stopped plagues of the Red Death. The one who did not suffered much more greatly."

"Exactly! Exactly! You would think that would be proof enough but no. Those who argue still that an imbalance in body fluids and the bladder and bowels are to blame are much too invested in their theories. And much more accepted. Fat lot of good it did them in Maloon! It's intolerable."

Tharex shook his head. "They might as well blame evil spirits like our primitive friends here."

"Ha! That is exactly what they claim _I_ am doing. They say that these tiny little creatures are either perfectly normal or that they could not possibly affect something so large as a man and I am inventing phantasms in an attempt to burnish my fading reputation as a scientist."

"Fading? What of your confirmation of Willet's theory of alien suns?"

"Others have had a very difficult time duplicating our results. They are unable to make the optics correctly is all! They lack skill and patience and for this _I_ am called a fraud. But have no fear, my friend, you are to blame as well!"

"Me? How?"

"You see, the entire thing is a fraud perpetrated upon the Society in order to gain credibility to help you sell your books about warriors from beyond the fire veil!"

"That is insane. Where do they think that much of the knowledge for my inventions _comes _from? It is _your_ work that informs and inspires my own!"

"And thus, I am in your thrall, doing whatever you demand, including fraud."

"Fools."

"There is surely no shortage of _those_, Tharex."

A few days later saw Tharex and Sava lying inside the tree-den that the chieftain had set aside for them to use. The usual late afternoon monsoon was roaring through, blasts of lightning and rumbles of thunder interrupting their conversation. As usual, Tharex was dreaming and his friend struggled to keep him grounded.

"I wish that we had thought to bring someone who could operate one of those new camera-machines. It would be nice to be able to show the actual image instead of Tamron's sketches. Admittedly, they are beautiful, but I believe something is still lost. Can you imagine if we had the ability to simply capture any image in an instant?"

"First, the plates would never survive the journey. They are fragile. I sometimes break the plates that go with my telescopes despite careful handling. And I think the heat and humidity here would absolutely ruin the image-capturing chemicals they are coated with. And finally, I think that would get us in a lot of trouble when we returned to Hiri."

"What? Why? How could anyone possibly object to such beauty? Some of these blooms are absolutely stunning! And these little tree-climbing creatures with the hands and the long, thin tails!"

"Come now, Tharex, you are thinking like an explorer, not one of our great citizens. Would you take one of these instant plates of the tribesmen here?"

"Of course. And as long as I'm dreaming, I'd like the plates to be unbreakable, and very light, in order to deal with your unpleasant objections."

Sava laughed. "You and me both, brother. But you're getting off topic. Would you take pictures of their women?"

"Of...oh." Tharex chuckled ruefully. "I hadn't thought of that. With their tails and ears uncovered, and their..." he cleared his throat. "chests flaunted publicly, the good people of Hiri would be incensed."

"Quite. You would be labeled a public menace and a corrupter of men and boys."

"Well, I do understand their wish to try to remain cool, but you would think they would know better."

"Tharex! You're a prude! I had never imagined it!"

"I am no such thing!" he objected. "I simply find such...casualness unsettling. How the men here can stand it, I do not know. With all these women running about so...exposed, they must be constantly struggling to maintain their focus on the more mundane aspects of life."

"Perhaps they are simply used to it."

"Nonsense. The reaction is instinctual. We are all subject to our baser natures when presented with a perfectly curved pair of female ears, or a well fluffed tail. To expect otherwise would be to deny the very drive that perpetuates all species."

"So you think we are all slaves to our animal passions? That we have no better nature?"

Frowning Tharex said, "That's not at all what I said, Sava. I said _subject to_ not enslaved by! The ability to master our passions is part of what makes us civilized. It is something that we could help these people with. To help them control those parts of their world that can be controlled, to help raise them up!"

"Raise them up? I think if you start by suggesting that they wear more clothing in this heat they will see it as dragging them down into heat exhaustion."

The inventor laughed. "But seriously, Sava, think of how wonderful it would be if we could bring the benefits of civilization to these wretched people, and in fact to _all_ peoples!"

"They do not seem unhappy to me. Quite the contrary, they seem quite content with their lives."

Tharex laughed. "Sava, they live in dirty holes carved into tree roots. Their lives are short and filled with the fear of all manner of ghosts and spirits and more realistic fears of jungle predators and disasters!"

Sava stretched and flicked his ears back and forth, then reached down and brushed his tail briefly. "They live in nice, comfortable homes surrounded by loved ones and and living in harmony with their surroundings!"

Scratching at yet another biting insect Tharex said, "Entirely too much in harmony! Much of their surroundings seems to think of me as a mobile banquet."

"There are plenty of little biting bugs in our civilization as well – some of them go about on _two_ legs." he laughed. "Why do you think they would _want_ to live like we do?"

Tharex looked at his friend, puzzled, "Why _wouldn't _they? Why would anyone choose to live dirty and hungry and frightened when there was better available?"

"Better." Sava frowned.

"Yes, better! I'm surprised at you, Sava. How could you claim it as anything but better? We work every day to better our people's lot in life. To make energy more freely available, more food for less work, better shelter, safer and faster transport – why civilization is an upward spiral, from the primitive to the rustic to the civilized! Better is simply a matter of where you are on that path."

"But what if they are _happy_ to live as they do, my friend?"

"They know nothing else – they have nothing to compare it to. Why, were we to take one or two of these savages back to Hiri with us and expose them to what a good life truly is, they would not want to return!"

"I am not so sure of that. They may find our lives to be horrifyingly complex, confusing – why they have no concept of the written word even. How would they look at your airship? No doubt as some demon-spawned thing to be feared or attacked!"

"As long as they didn't use fire, I'm fine with that." Tharex laughed.

Sava joined him in the laugh. "My point is that you are assuming they would _want_ the benefits you think they would. How do you know?"

Tharex laughed again. "Sava, were I to show you some marvelous new home with better lighting, some sort of magical automatically adjusting temperature machine, a microscope that allowed you to see much smaller things...a faster, smaller, airship...wouldn't _you _want it? In the same way, were I to show these people how to use a firearm to hunt instead of these spears they use, or a home that was cooler than this blasted oven we're in, they would jump at the chance!"

"I think you're probably right, but...I don't know. I just feel that there is more to suddenly being dragged from your world into one that is so much more advanced...We are attuned to our world as it is. Would you even survive such a shock? Or what of the reverse? What if _we_ were suddenly forced to survive in a more primitive world?"

Tharex thought for a moment. "That would be unpleasant, but easy. We still possess the knowledge – we would simply have to rebuild what had gone before. It would take time, but the road already exists, We would just have to travel it."

"Well then, what if some of your space creatures arrived and suddenly made everything we knew seem quaint and primitive. Much as these people are having to adjust to our presence."

"Don't be ridiculous. We are men of science and _our_ culture has advanced to the point where we would simply recognize them as men much as ourselves. More advanced in science and its applications, but that is all. No doubt as anxious to help us to advance as we are to help these poor people."

Sava studied his friend. "I am conflicted about such help, as you can guess."

"Sava, you worry too much. Advanced civilizations are by definition moral civilizations. My story of the invaders from space was just a monster story with the monsters coming from above instead of below. They would be anxious to help even as are we. Why, for example, this sickness that has decimated this little village, are you not anxious to see if we can find a cure for them? If you had one, would you not give it to them, show them how and why they became sick so that they could make such cures for themselves? Or would you leave them to die in their primitive purity?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know I could not leave people suffering for no reason."

"Exactly. Compared to the ease of our lives, every day of these people's lives is a struggle – rife with suffering. It is only moral for us to offer them what help we can, to ease their burden."

"You make a solid point, but there is a part of me that cannot help but think that there is something to be said for the simpler life."

Grinning Tharex rolled onto his side and looked at his friend. "Yes, it is easy to long for the simplicity of this primitive world. Knowing that you get to return to the comfort of your nice home, your lovely wife and children, and the scientific marvels of our daily lives where we do _not_ need to spend the vast majority of our time in finding enough food so that we do not starve, or wondering when it will be _our_ turn on the dinner plate."

Sava flicked his ears. "Again, a valid point. I suppose it is easy to ignore privation when you have plenty."

Tharex sat up, peering out of the opening to their dugout den. "And look! The clouds have parted and the sun is giving us a last show for the evening. Come, let us see if we can puzzle out more of what it is the little chief was trying to tell us about the plants that they use to hunt. I want to know what it is they coat those little arrows with to make them so deadly!"


	8. Chapter 7

_**CHAPTER 7**_

"_Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways."  
― Stephen Vincent Benet_

_**LANCASTER, ENGLAND, EARTH**_

_**JULY 2350**_

Angus MacLaren and Shard were making their way down the crowded streets of Lancaster. A small city of barely 60,000 souls, Lancaster has been a settlement since the Roman occupation of Britain, and has seen a wide variety of peoples of all types in it's millennia and a half. Emerging as major research center with Lancaster University at it's hub, the city has become famed throughout the Federation for its breakthroughs in subspace physics, and its business research unit. Because of this, aliens were a common sight on the streets of this river-side town. Every species from Andorian to Vulcan – even Ferengi - were frequent visitors to the local shops and venues. An old man in a green robe with a meter-high felinoid leading him about didn't even rate a second glance.

To Shard, however, _everything _was new and different and exciting beyond words. The sky was a different shade of blue, the plants a different shade of green and there were so _many _buildings and people and vehicles and scents and sounds and...

MacLaren laughed quietly. "Shard, if you don't stop trying to take everything in at once, your ears and whiskers are going to fall off. " Although the boy was leading him, he could easily feel the somewhat wandering path and tugs as the kit's head swiveled from side to side or his nose led him towards one scent or another.

"Is that an Andorian?" but before MacLaren could answer or point out he couldn't even _see_ 'that', there was another rapid-fire question, "What's _that?"_ and then nearly instantly "What are _those?_"

"Shard, hang on a second. Stop." the old man let his own nose work for a moment. "All right, do you smell that sort of spicy meat scent?"

"Yes! It's coming from right next to us! In here!" He tugged on his guardian's arm and the two went into a small shop. "What are they, selenda?"

The shopkeeper, seeing a wide-eyed little boy deep in sensory overload, laughed and answered, "Real Cornish pasties, lad! The best in England. Made the old way, by hand, no replicators here!" Like most businessmen in any town frequented by aliens, he had purchased a universal translator long ago. Looking at the blind man he asked, "Can I get you two, gov'nor? There are some tables out front, you can sit for a bite."

"Yes, please. Shard, take them – be careful, they're hot." He concluded the transaction and then put his hand on the kit's shoulder and let him lead them to a table. Sitting down, enjoying the sunshine and the noise of the crowds bustling by, MacLaren began to enjoy his meal. The sounds of Shard gobbling down the pastry-covered meat-pie were also amusing.

"Mrhbh delsh ithnm!" he mumbled around another big mouthful. MacLaren was a fluent Dosadi speaker, but even a UT device would have given up trying to translate that.

"Boy, don't talk with your mouth full." he admonished him. "Chew. Slowly. Swallow. Then speak." he said with the hint of a laugh in his voice.

After a few moments, "I'm sorry selenda." But there was little, if any, of the lad's former cringing in the apology. "It's delicious! What is the meat? Is it rat? It tastes different. Smoother!"

At that, MacLaren did laugh, loud enough to draw attention from the other patrons. Finally wiping his eyes he said, "No, Shard, um, humans don't think of rat as edible except in an emergency. They're picky eaters. This is beef, it's made from cows. Sort of like a stut."

"I _like_ rat." the kit felt that humans were definitely missing out.

"Yes, well, I wouldn't suggest asking for it; On Earth stick with beef, or chicken, or pork, or fish, OK? Do you want me to write those down for you?" He took another bite of his own meal.

Ears drooping, "I don't know how to read."

Almost choking, MacLaren sputtered out, "What?! At all? No one taught you to read or write?"

"No, selenda. I'm sorry. I know my numbers really good now from the cards and I know some of the letters though."

"Good gods, Shard. We're going to fix that right away quick. You need to know how to read and write!"

"Yes, selenda. I'm sorry, selenda."

"It's not your fault, Shard. You don't need to apologize, it's the responsibility of those who care for you and about you to teach you. Don't fret, boy, we'll get you reading faster than you can believe; you're smart, you'll learn fast."

Shard was getting less shocked at praise, but it still made him feel strange, so he took another bite of his pasty, being sure to chew more slowly this time.

Sitting across from the pair were two young men, also enjoying the sunshine. They were watching the two visitors and listening to their conversation – something of a challenge in a busy town, but made easier by technology.

The first man, a small blonde named Carl asked his leader, "So what's the job here, Eric? I don't see a lot of money in either of _those_ two."

Eric ignored him and continued to focus on listening with the directional mic attached to his PADD.

"Eric, why are we wasting our time? There's lots of better targets to hit."

"Shut up. You're thinking small."

"Small? We get some swag from half a dozen of the folks around here and we're set for a month. And you're looking at some geezer in a dress and his pet cat?"

Eric didn't take his eyes off the table across the street. "Moron. You don't know what that is, do you?"

"Like I said, some geezer and his cat. No money."

"You see the fur? That's no cat, it's a Dosadi."

"I was bein' funny, dipshit. So it's a Dosadi, so what?"

"They're crazy, like Klingons. But they got fur. Pretty fur. Soft fur."

"So what?"

"There are people that'll pay really good money for a Dosadi skin. Like a trophy. I know a Cardassian who'd as give his left nut to get one. But 'aint nobody crazy enough to take on a full-grown Dosadi. That one's just a little one. And no adult to protect it."

"You serious? How much we talking?"

"You want to take two years off? We sell it and we can do that. Easy."

"So, what, we grab them right off the street?"

"Don't be more of an idiot than you gotta be. You want to go down for kidnapping or slaving? We gotta plan this. Follow them, and take them when we can do it and get away clean. Just gotta be patient."

MacLaren wiped his mouth, feeling centered and at peace. There was a deep-seated feeling of joy in listening to Shard find some happiness. He had no idea _why_ the gods needed that poor kit to have had such an awful life to date, but he was glad that they had brought the boy to him. "Well, Shard, have you settled down a little bit?"

"Yes, selenda." he answered, but with only a trace of his old fears. "Where are we going?"

Sitting back in his chair, he said, "Well, my family business is here in Lancaster, but my brother is being cared for in the village of Hawes, just a little ways north from here. Our historic family home is there. So, we'll get some transport here and we'll go see what we need to settle. He's very ill, and also very old. He's the eldest of all four of us."

"Four?"

"Yes, my parents had four sons. Robert is the oldest, he's 95 now, which is very old for a human, and I'm the youngest, a mere 80 years old!"

Shard was surprised – very few Dosadi lived to see 80. "That's really old!"

MacLaren chuckled again. If nothing else, the lad was providing him with a lot of amusement in his life. "Not for humans. It is for Dosadi because you all tend to die in your sixties and seventies due to climbing accidents or hunting accidents or skydiving accidents or _space_ diving accidents...Your people don't seem to spend their senior years stopping and smelling the roses. You seem to prefer to smell them as you go roaring past at high speed..."

The boy digested this for a few moments. "What do humans_ do_ when they get old then?"

Grinning, the old man told him, "Play golf. Sit around and wait to die. Stick their noses in other people's business...it's one reason I love the Dosadi so much. But a few of us find ways to be useful – as teachers, or mentors or expert advisors. We try to find ways to pass our knowledge and experience on to the next generation. In older days, you'd find grandparents doing a lot of child care so that the parents could do their jobs or grow food. These days that's not needed quite so much."

"I don't think I had grandparents."

"You had them, Shard, your parents just didn't spend time with them. They might have died, or been far away; You've missed out on a lot of parts of your culture because of it. One of the things I hope to help you find when we return to Dosad is a teacher and other people to help you find your way."

He didn't know what to say to that. It was more than anyone had ever done for him. "What is your family business?"

Rolling his blind eyes, MacLaren said, "An accounting firm."

"What's accounting?"

"Paperwork. Tons of it. Adding long columns of numbers all day every day. Sometimes if they get really crazy, they'll subtract."

"That sounds awful!"

He smiled, "It is. Well, to be fair, that's not entirely accurate. They do a lot of business planning and financial advising, but what it comes down to is analyzing a lot of numbers and looking at inventories and markets and supply and demand and it was never anything I even remotely enjoyed. Robert _loves _it. He was always making graphs and charts even as a child. I'm afraid he's going to want me to take it over when he dies and I simply cannot. I know nothing about the field, I don't even live on this _planet_ any more. And there's ownership of the family home in Hawes, and how to deal with the inheritance and all that sort of thing."

"Inheritance?"

"Yes, humans collect things their whole lives. Vehicles and boats and homes and art and jewelry and weapons and junk and crap and piles and piles of _stuff_. It's another thing about the Dosadi that I prefer. You folk barely own anything beyond what you can carry on your person. Just some weapons or jewelry, maybe a musical instrument."

Shard plucked at the little starburst broach that Tellarite captain had given him. "Like this?"

"Exactly! Almost anything bigger is just there for whoever needs or wants to use it first, and as a people you excel at taking turns. That's just not something humans do well. Once we get our grubby little hands on something, we never let go of it. Even when we _die_ we want our genes to keep ahold of it."

"How come?"

"I'm not sure. I think because at our core, we're just big monkeys. And monkeys are thieves by design. Your people are from an entirely different world, with different rules. Even if you _do_ look a lot like a cat."

"Is that why the Tellarites called me a cat?"

MacLaren sighed. "Well, yes. Hmm." He debated how to explain it to the kit. "Shard, at first, they were being mean. Tellarites are often verbally abusive and they thought to tease you. Right up until you showed them what you could do! Then it went from being mean to a term of respect. You impressed them. The universe is full of people who will dislike you or hate you or make fun of you simply because of your species.

"Now, you can either accept that this sort of foolish prejudice exists and drive on, or you can spend your life bemoaning the cruelty of others and trying to make everything fair and nice and no more mean people! Guess which one will get you further?"

Shard was quick. "Drive on!"

Smiling at the boy he said, "Exactly. Be yourself and don't give two figs for what other people think about you. If they dislike you because you have a tail, that's their loss. If they dislike me because I _don't_ have a tail, who cares? They can only affect me if I _choose_ to let them affect me. So the Tellarites called you a cat to tease you. You didn't even notice and went about showing them what you could do until they were forced to admit that you were so much better than what they thought of you at first that they gave you a _medal_!" He reached his finger out and tapped Shard's little decoration. "That's how you live your life, Shard. Do what's right, regardless of the cost, be who you are regardless of what other people think of you."

"Yes, selenda!" he agreed enthusiastically.

The human cocked his head at the Dosadi. "You are a sharp kit, Shard. I knew it when I first met you – the more I get to know you, the more your nickname fits you."

"Thank you, selenda." He dipped his head slightly, embarrassed.

"Well. Are you ready to see about finding a ride to Hawes? I had intended to stop by the firm – that's another word for business – but I'm just not in the mood. You'll like Hawes. It's a tiny little town and much more like a Dosadi village than most Earth cities are."

When they got up and MacLaren gave directions to Shard as to how to find the transport station, neither of them noticed two young men get up and follow along at a discreet distance.

The mag-lev train route that made the circuit of the tourist, hiking, and sightseeing towns was considerably more modern than the old Midland Railway, but followed the same route. The station, in fact, had been designed to duplicate, as much as possible, the original station from the late 1800's. Shard was, as was now usual, enthralled with the entire process. MacLaren gave up trying to get him to settle down as every moment brought a new sight, feel, sound, or scent into the little boy's experiences.

The journey wasn't a long one, only about 45 miles – less than half an hour's trip – and MacLaren let his mind's eye replay the scenes from his memory. Lots of woods and hills and all the beauty of Northern England rolling by outside the window. It made him wish that he could be a little boy again, face plastered to the window, watching the farms and fields race past. For a species with Shard's exceptional senses, it had to be even more fun, he thought.

Disembarking from the train, he felt that he barely needed the kit's guidance. These streets were his home, despite over a decade's absence. But better sense won out and he gently laid his hand on Shard's shoulder and gave him directions on how to find their ancestral home on the northwestern edge of town. Shard was describing everything he saw to the old man.

"Well, they've been doing a lot of reforesting of the area in the last century or two, so I suppose it's no surprise that there's a lot more trees than I remember. You'll love the house though, Shard. We're in the middle of a beautiful walled field with trees on three sides and the River Ure on the fourth. Here, we should be close to the turn here...is there a...yes, I hear it. Turn right here."

The walk was only a couple kilometers from the mag-lev station and took very little time. As in Lancaster, neither had any cause or reason to note two people following the same route a hundred or so meters back. The home itself was a large, two-story house built in the Tudor style and had clearly been added on to over the centuries. While they moved up the walk, Shard was impressed. "How many families live inside?"

"Just one, Shard. In fact, I believe it's only my brother at the moment. His wife has already passed and his children and grand-children live elsewhere. He has a live-in nurse who is caring for him, however."

"Just two _people_?!"

"Yup! For humans, the bigger the house, the more powerful you are, so they all want the biggest emptiest house they can get. Sometimes many big, empty houses."

"That's _dumb!"_

"Yup!" MacLaren agreed wholeheartedly. "We should knock. This hasn't been my home for many years."

Shard reached a long-fingered hand up and rapped on the door frame. It looked similar to the door at Selenda's cabin back on Dosad. There was a wait of a few minutes – his sharp ears let him hear footsteps moving through the home and MacLaren's natural patience meant neither of them got fidgety, despite the wait. When the door opened, Shard was surprised to see a young female human smiling down at him, her deep auburn hair tied up in a bun.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

He looked at the woman, the first he had really seen up-close, his eyes going up and down, noting the many differences between his guardian and her. He was, however, clearly young and she took no offense.

MacLaren cleared his throat, "I'm Angus. Robert asked me to return home to help with some final arrangements before he passed."

"Oh, I'm glad to meet you! I'm Clara Burns… Robert's nurse. He...He's been hanging on."

"Oh." MacLaren's face fell. "That bad?"

"I don't want to try to give you false hope; yes. It is. Let me take you to him." She reached down and took Angus' arm and began to guide him into his old home. She turned to Shard, "Why don't you have a seat there...boy?" she concluded hopefully.

Shard figured out her question quickly and smiled. A real, genuine smile. "Yes, Claraburns. I'm a boy, my name is Shard." The babble of Dosadi meant nothing to her, so Angus translated.

"You can call me Clara, Shard. Let me get your...friend up to see his brother and then I'll come back down and we'll get some ice cream, OK?"

Shard had no idea what ice cream was, but he knew he should wait. "Be, Clara." and sat down on the big, overstuffed love seat in the front window. She didn't need a translation to understand an assent and he didn't have long to wait. A few minutes later, she came back downstairs and stood in front of him.

"You're a Dosadi, aren't you?" she asked with a smile.

"Be, Clara." he agreed. He felt he should mind his manners very carefully to avoid causing selenda any dishonor or upset.

"You're a very polite little boy, Shard. Is Mr. MacLaren taking care of you?"

Speaking in Dosadi he answered, "Yes, Clara. He is. He's amazing! He saved me when I was lost and..." he decided not to tell the rest of that story.

Clara got no more than that he agreed with her, but picked up on his hesitation. If an old human had somehow become responsible for a young Dosadi, there was likely a long story there – and probably one that was unpleasant for the boy. "Well. Would you like some ice cream while we wait?"

"Mrrr. Ilk var ise kreem?"

The puzzlement in his eyes, his ears, and the tilt to his head made his confusion apparent. She laughed lightly, "Oh my. It's a treat. I think you'll like it – but if you don't, we'll find something else, all right?"

"Be! Kareen!" he stood up and followed her into the kitchen.

Angus sat down next to his brother's bed. The sounds of various bits of medical equipment and the medicinal scents that permeated sick rooms for centuries, made it very clear that Robert wasn't doing all that well.

Robert opened his eyes and looked at his baby brother. "You came."

"Of course, Robert. I didn't know that you were as sick as you are, though. I understood that you were seriously ill, but there was no hint that you were literally holding onto Loreth's ears and kicking her in the belly."

"Still being that hippie preacher out in the woods with the cats, eh?"

Angus laughed. "Well, yes. For about 25 years now, Robert. It's not exactly a passing fad."

"I never understood why the Church and your own people were never good enough for you." he coughed.

"They were plenty good enough, they just didn't fit _me_."

"Nothing ever did. You could have been rich, you know. An executive. A respected man of business, advising the Federation Council! Instead you ran off to the Army like you were some Glasgow thug with no education."

Speaking mildly and with a bit of a grin Angus responded, "Starfleet is hardly the Army, Robert, and I retired as a full Commander. Not exactly a squaddie living on the dole."

"You might as well have been! You did nothing with your life!"

"I think we disagree on that, as always, Robert. I've published a number of scholarly works, I'm a valued member of the community on Dosad, and most of all, I've been completely, contentedly, happy for many years now."

"Bah. As I said, hippie nonsense. Did you ever even find time for a wife? Children?"

"No, Robert, Dosad isn't exactly overrun with human women, nor was Kzin, nor Cait. And frankly, I don't miss them."

"Humph. I expected you to go fully native and find you with some cat woman raising half-breed children."

Angus laughed, "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint. You'll obviously be _thrilled_ to know that just a couple of weeks ago a young Dosadi boy wandered into my camp and I've taken responsibility for him. Currently, your nurse is spoiling him with ice cream."

Robert coughed again and pushed the button to raise the head of the bed somewhat. "That won't fly Angus, and you know it."

Puzzled, the younger MacLaren asked, "Won't fly?"

"I know what you're about, Angus. You could never hide anything from me."

"Dear Robert, I never _tried_ to hide anything from you. But you persisted in seeing ulterior motives in everything I did. I think you always expected me to be in competition with you like Craig and Donald were. And it just confused the _hell_ out of you that I never was."

"Then why bring the boy here, now?"

"Because he had nowhere else to go? Because he was terrified and lost and alone and had a desperate need for someone to care for him?"

"Don't be daft. You mean him to inherit."

Angus laughed, loud and long. "Oh my! Is _that_ what you think?"

"Of course. You know what the firm is worth. You know that when I am gone you will take control as father's will stipulates. And then it will pass to _your_ heir, and you mean it to be one of those damn cats! You see them gaining influence with the Federation Council!"

With a big teasing grin Angus asked, "Robert, have they given you hallucinogenic drugs?"

"Don't think me a dotard, Angus! My mind is as sharp as ever!"

Sighing Angus tried again, "Robert, I think it is too sharp. I have _no_ idea what the firm is worth – I didn't even stop by when we came through Lancaster. Nor do I care. I have no interest in it, no wish to have anything to do with it. I intend to return to my home when we have finished what business you have with me, and return to my life. I would _hate_ being tied down with all that paperwork and all those endless meetings and having to wear a suit and tie and..." he shuddered in genuine loathing. "It is simply not for me, Robert."

"I don't believe you. You could as easily bring your young charge and take up housekeeping here and do exactly as I fear the moment I die."

"Robert, you have always been my favorite, though I think you've never understood me at all. I refuse to argue with you about your fears. Let me ask this, what would you see happen if you could have your fondest wish for after you die?"

"My grandson Ethan inherits. Controlling interest in the firm and the house as well. He's been acting as CEO in my absence for several years and has a flair for the work. He's well respected in the field. He also has a wife and three children of his own – the house would be wonderful for them all, and for his soon to be grandchildren!"

"Oh, that's wonderful news for them! And for me as well."

"How is that wonderful news?"

"Because someone competent in our family can take over for you and leave me to my woods, my faith, and my cats." he grinned.

The eldest of the MacLaren's squinted at his brother. "You would willingly walk away from a fortune? From power and respect and influence? From all of this?"

"Robert, it would make me miserable. It would make your grandson ecstatic. Absolutely I would walk away from it. In fact, I would _run_ away from it."

"There will have to be papers signed, Angus."

He sighed again. "Always with the paperwork. To get away from paperwork, I have to sign paperwork. Call your lawyer and let's get it done – renouncing my inheritance in favor of young Ethan will make everyone happy, most especially _me_."

Robert pressed another button on the remote. "You surprise me, Angus. But you have eased my mind and my heart greatly. I thought we would fight about this."

"When _haven't_ I taken your advice when it comes to business or finance, Robert?" There was a short pause while Robert gave the appearance of thinking hard.

"Hmmm. I think every single time I've ever offered it. Which is why you live as a penniless hippie among aliens."

Laughing, Angus said, "Well, yes, I'm afraid that's true. But I am happy, and that is a jewel beyond price and one that no one can take from me...Oh. Shard, you should probably have stayed downstairs."

Clara turned in surprise, "Oh! I'm sorry Mr. MacLaren, I forgot to tell him to wait there! I just assumed..."

"No harm done." Robert said, looking curiously at the youngster. "This is one of them?" he coughed again, a long racking affair that was painful even to hear.

When he had stopped, Angus introduced the boy, "Sharden, I would like you to meet my eldest brother Robert. Robert, this is Sharden, though I've taken to calling him Shard because he's quite sharp."

"Pitt'barl't, Robert." Shard said quietly.

Robert looked him up and down. "Come closer, boy. I have some questions."

"He doesn't speak Standard, Robert. I'll have to translate – he's got an earpiece so he can understand you though."

"Hmm. Clara, have my lawyer here first thing tomorrow morning, tell him to bring renunciation papers and transfer documents as well as father's will and mine."

"Yes, sir." She stepped out to go and contact the attorney. Shard shyly came to the bedside. The man was the oldest being he had ever seen.

"Why are you with my brother?"

"I didn't have anyplace else to go. I was lost and starving and alone. I don't have anyone else."

"I see. What would you say if I told you that you could own this house, these lands, and a very large firm, and with it tremendous power and influence?"

"What for?" Angus translated.

The old man turned to his brother, "Did he understand my question?"

Angus laughed again, "Yes, Robert. He's a Dosadi. They don't see ownership like we do. Their culture is based on honor and reputation and valor. Who you are and what you have done and what you can be counted on to do, not what you own. A house is someplace you stay. It's shared. Businesses are based upon the reputations of the people in the company, not some nebulous concept like a 'firm' A rich man is one with a great deal of honor, many honorable close friends and family, and a valorous battle history."

"Boy, I'm telling you that you could have everything you ever dreamed of having. Wouldn't you like that?"

"I've got that now, though. This is wonderful."

"Bah. Damn hippies. No concept of how things are in the world."

Grinning, Angus said, "Shard, why not go back down to the kitchen? I'll be down shortly." Seeing the child was concerned that he had upset his brother he continued, "Thank you for being so wonderfully you, Shard. You have proved my point. Now scoot."

"Yes, selenda." and he scooted, somewhat confused.

An hour later, Angus MacLaren came downstairs, his mood somber. Walking into the kitchen, his frown broke into a big smile. Sitting at the big walnut table was Shard. His eyes crossed and his tongue working around his face to try to get the last bits of ice cream off his nose, whiskers, and chin, an empty bowl in front of him, the spoon laid on the table. Though he couldn't _see_ the boy, he could hear the sounds he was making as he stuck his tongue out as far as it would go and his mind filled in the details; or perhaps the image was filled in by the spirits that he had spent decades communing with.

Clara explained, "I hope it's okay, he's been so good, I figured a second bowl wouldn't hurt. They're small bowls anyway."

He pulled out a chair and sat down across from Shard who was still making little delighted sounds. "It's fine. He deserves a few treats."

"I'm glad you don't mind. He's so _cute_!"

Grinning Angus said, "I've found a lot of humans, particularly women, find Dosadi kits to be irresistible. Maybe it's the spots..."

"I love them. He's like a giant talking kitten." she laughed.

"Well that's good, he'll lose the rest of those spots in the next couple years though."

"Would it be ok to hug him?"

"Don't ask _me_, ask _him!"_

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry. Um, Shard, may I hug you?"

Not entirely sure what a 'hug' was, but seeing MacLaren not objecting, he said, "Be, Clara.", but his ears twitched backwards some.

She knelt down and wrapped the boy up in her arms, cuddling him and stroking the fur between his ears. Pleasantly surprised, Shard did the instinctual thing and rubbed his forehead along her chin and began to purr quietly. Like all Dosadi, purring was involuntary. And like most humans, Clara found the combination of warm, soft, kitten-like fur and purring to be captivating.

"Awwww!" She squeezed him firmly and continued to pet him.

Shard had _no_ idea what he had done to deserve such a wonderful thing, but he sure wasn't going to object.

Still cuddling the lad she asked "How is it that they are so much like cats? I want to keep him and get him a saucer of milk!"

"I like milk!" he agreed.

Angus laughed again. "The galaxy seems to be full of a lot of similar evolutionary lines. There are several forms that are very advantageous and we see them again and again: hominid, felinoid, canid, reptilian. Determining factors as to the ascendent sentient form seem to depend greatly upon the environment and the long-term history of the planet and..." he grinned, "I'm a Xenologist by trade. Sorry."

She smiled back at him. "It's fine." She finally released Shard with a final scritch between his ears. "You're very different than your brother."

Shard spoke up, "You're different than selenda! You're _soft_!"

Both humans smiled at that once Angus translated. Then he answered her, "And from my other brothers as well, may the gods guide their spirits. I'm the black sheep of the family. Poor Robert has worried himself endlessly with his fears that I was going to end up in control of the firm. I think this will help to relax him."

"I hope so. He doesn't have a lot of days left, as I'm sure you know."

"I do." He cocked his head at the woman, "You seem less...patronizing than most nurses. Much more straightforward. That's something I'm used to from Dosadi, not from humans."

"I'm a hospice nurse, sir. We spend our time dealing with death and easing people's passing. There's no point to pretending."

"I wasn't criticizing, dear. I was complimenting. I find it refreshing, and comforting."

"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be prickly."

"It's fine. What will you do when he dies? His grandson and his family will be moving in here and you will have no one to care for."

She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "As I said, I'm a hospice nurse. When Robert has moved on, so will I. There will be another patient. One thing about hospice, there is never a shortage of those who need our help."

Shard asked, "Ilk var hospice?"

She pursed her lips for a moment. The question was obvious. "Well, we help people who are dying so that their death is easy and pain free and not scary. Do you understand?"

"Be, Clara."

Angus smiled again, "If he spends any more time here, we'll have you speaking Dosadi before he's speaking Standard."

She laughed, "I've always been good at languages."

"Can I ask you to help me get a room set up? We'll only need one – Dosadi sleep in groups and generally find it unpleasant to sleep alone."

"Of course. This is your home as well."

"Thank you. It will be nice to sleep here once more, though it'll make me feel like I'm about seventeen again."

She raised one eyebrow, "And that's a _bad_ thing?"

Smiling broadly, "Nope! Just different."

A short way up the road from the MacLaren house, two men were sitting on the low wall that ran the length of the motorway.

"Eric, how long we gonna sit here?"

"As long as we have to, Carl."

"I gotta piss."

"You got a bladder like a little girl. Go find a tree."

"What if they don't come out today?"

"Then we go up the road and get a room at the Green Dragon Inn, and we take turns standing watch."

"That's going to _suck_."

"Just keep thinking about living someplace nice, like Aruba. And not having to do any jobs for a couple years. That'll keep you payin' attention to something other than having to piss all the time."

"Anyplace is better than New York. So what's the plan?"

"They come out, we knock the geezer on the head, throw the critter in the sack and beat feet."

"Sounds good. This place is so small there's not enough people to see a damn thing."

"Told you all we had to do was follow them and we'd find a place. Once we put a few miles between us and here, we'll slit its throat and skin it. I used to hunt deer in the Catskills, I got to be pretty good at skinnin'."

"Glad you are. I'm good with a knife, but not like that."

"Yeah, I'll take care of it. We can sell the head separate maybe. I bet there's someone would want that on their wall. A Ferengi maybe. Or another Cardie."

"That's smart! We get two sales for one job."

"Yep. All you gotta do is stay awake when you're on watch, and a couple hours after they come outta that big house, we're golden."

The next morning, the MacLaren family attorney arrived promptly at eight and immediately ensconced himself with the two brothers in Robert's sick room. Clara enlisted Shard's help in cleaning up the kitchen, pleased at how willing the lad was to be of use. Once the breakfast dishes were stowed away and everything wiped down she said, "They'll be up there for hours, Shard. Why don't you go outside and play for a little while? You can explore the yard; Don't go too far into the woods though, okay? I don't want you getting lost and there aren't a lot of trails in them yet!"

"Be, Clara." he agreed. Still nervous about getting too far from MacLaren, there was no way he was going out of sight of the house. But there were so _many_ interesting scents coming in the open windows...He scampered out into the yard, eager to identify each and every one and to match songs with birds.

Meanwhile, Eric and Carl were back by the motorway, settled under the shade of a large oak tree, watching the house.

"Check it out, Eric. Look who's out by himself."

"Yeah. Just wait a second though. Make sure nobody's around and nobody's comin' out."

They watched Shard bounding about the yard, happily chasing a large rabbit before getting distracted by a gopher hole.

Eric finally decided, "Yeah, they're all tied up with the guy who came to the door. All right, let's grab him. Easier than...Hold it."

Walking down the side of the road was a policewoman, dressed in the still-traditional uniform of the British Bobby. She eyed the two men and approached them. "Good morning, lads."

Eric spoke for both, "Good morning, officer."

She studied them both for a moment. "Yanks, hey?" and she smiled.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Here for business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure, ma'am. We're hikers. Nothing like the British trail system!"

She nodded. "Hikers. Where's your kit then?"

"We're ultralights, officer. The less gear, the more fun. Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints, right?"

She noted the little blonde man seemed uncomfortable. "That's the right way to do it. So are you staying nearby?"

Eric answered again. "Yes. We've got a room up at the Green Dragon Inn, just up the road a piece."

"Ah, a good spot. How's old Chad doing anyway?" The question was a test – there was no such person at the Green Dragon.

Eric was no fool. "Chad? I don't think we've met him yet. There was a nice lady named Isla that gave us our room, is Chad her husband?"

"Oh, no, he's just one of the regulars at the pub there." She nodded, satisfied. Speaking directly to Carl she asked him, "And how are you enjoying the hiking, sir?"

Carl swallowed hard. "I love it. The air is fresh and clean and everything's so green. It's not like New York."

"No, I suppose not." he was nervous and constantly looking at the other man. Still, New Yorkers could be very trendy and ultralight hiking was very popular. "Well, enjoy your stay in the Riding. If you have any trouble, I'll be about."

"Thank you, officer. I doubt we'll have any – not a lot of crime in these small towns."

"And we like to keep it that way." She smiled, but the smile fooled no one. She had very pointedly let the two men know she was suspicious of them and that if they had any thoughts of mischief-making, they should move on to someone else's beat. She continued on down the road but after getting out of earshot, she called in to her patrol office to report two hikers who might bear a bit of extra scrutiny.

Eric and Carl watched her walk away. Carl finally spoke, "Jesus, Eric, that was too close!"

"Idiot. We're not doing anything _wrong_. Why you all nervous like that?"

"She's gonna be watching us."

"Yeah. Just means we have to be careful – which we were gonna be anyway."

"I'm not grabbing it now, that's for damn sure."

"Not right now. Let's let her go find something else to do for a while. She 'aint going to hang around watching us all day. Here's what we're gonna do – We're gonna hike."

"What the fuck, Eric?"

"Jesus, you're thick. Look, if we just stand here all day she's going to know what we're interested in. So we go for a hike. Just like we said we're here for. We're back here in a couple hours. They 'aint going anywhere." He shook his head and started off towards a trail-head.

Shard continued his play, finding Earth trees as climbable as those on Dosad.

Finally, late that afternoon, Angus and the attorney came back downstairs, Angus moving tiredly. Clara looked at him, concern showing on her face. Shard could smell the sorrow and exhaustion coming from his guardian and tried hard to conceal his own fears.

Clara asked, "How did it go?"

The attorney answered her, "The documents are, of course, complex, but we were able to get everything signed and witnessed via PADD, and filed as well. I'm surprised at you Mr. MacLaren. You stood to be very comfortable here."

Irritated, Angus snapped, "I'm _already_ very comfortable where I'm _at_. I wish you would all quit trying to turn me into something I'm emphatically _not_." He passed his hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I find that sort of work very trying." He looked at Clara and continued, "I'm not sure he'll make it through the night."

The younger man said, "I'm very sorry for your loss, sir. I'll be on my way; I'll need to convey the information to Ethan, of course." He turned and left quickly.

Angus shook his head. "The profession hasn't gotten any more pleasant since our last encounter."

Clara laughed, a welcome sound. "That seems to be something that hasn't changed throughout millennia. A necessary evil, I suppose."

"And yet the Dosadi have no native concept for 'lawyer', nor do the Cait. For the Kzin, the closest analog would be an advocate, someone who fights duels for those who are unable to respond; _They_ at least command respect among decent folk."

"As much fun as it is to tease, there are good lawyers, Mr. MacLaren. It's not fair to tar an entire profession with a single brush. I've seen compassionate, caring attorneys who have helped the dying in myriad ways. And that man has long been a friend and confidant of your brother. Though he surely didn't show it the way you would expect, I think he is as upset at his dying as you are."

Angus puffed air out through pursed lips. "I suppose. I'm out of sorts today, and I don't know why. Something just is _not _right."

"Well it's not every day your brother dies."

"No, but I've lost two before him and more friends than I can count in the service and among several other peoples. This is different."

The young nurse frowned. "Did you get a chance to say your good-byes? Perhaps that's on your mind?"

"No, no, we spent quite a bit of time doing that yesterday." He smiled, "Robert has never been terribly good at showing emotion; I think I unsettled him. But there is nothing between us but love. The old arguments and disagreements are now more of a shared experience than a source of tension. Letting him choose his heir meant a tremendous amount to him."

"I'm glad to hear that. It's even harder when people pass with conflicts left hanging between their loved ones or 'I love yous' unsaid." There was a sharp beeping tone from her PADD. "Oh dear. Excuse me, please." and she hurried upstairs as fast as Angus had seen her move yet.

Angus sensed, rather than saw, Shard sitting in his chair, pulled into himself and trying to be completely silent. He guided himself to another chair and set next to the boy. "Shard, it's okay."

"I'm sorry."

Grinning MacLaren tried to comfort him. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. No one does. People die, it's as natural as being born. And Robert has had a very long and very wonderful life. I'll miss him, of course and I'll be sad, but I'll continue on with my life, and you will with yours. There's a certain balance in this, you see?"

"I'm not sure, selenda."

He put his hand on Shard's shoulder and squeezed. "You came into my life as my brother is leaving it. He is at the end of his life, and you are at the beginning of yours. And I've been privileged enough to be part of both."

"Oh."

"If you live your life as well as he has lived his, I'll be honored to have had some small part in it."

"How do I do that, selenda?"

"Like I've told you before, Shard. Do the right thing, always, no matter the cost. And be yourself, no matter what other people think of you. That's pretty much the Dosadi way, it's in your blood. If you do that, you'll always make me proud and honor me."

Shard thought for a few moments. "That's what At'Vax told me, too. Right before he died."

"Who was At'Vax?"

The boy hesitated for a few moments then told the whole story of how his leg came to be so badly injured. By the time he finished, he was nearly in tears.

MacLaren nodded. "That's more painful for you than I thought it was, but it makes sense. I'm very thankful to that man. Had _he_ not done the right thing, I would not have gotten to know you. I'm glad you told me his story – it deserves to be told."

"You believe me?"

"Of course. You've always been truthful, Shard, and Finlon told me a little bit about it as well."

"My mom said if I told anyone I'd get in trouble."

"That's nonsense. You did nothing wrong. Tell that story and be proud! You did your best, and a brave man sacrificed himself to save you. You honor him by sharing the story."

The boy took a few moments to think about that. While he was thinking, Clara came back downstairs, her face serious. "I'm sorry, sir. Robert has died."

Angus sat back in his chair and sighed heavily. "He was ready. I really think he was only holding on until we could settle this. It must be a relief for him."

She smiled wanly, "He actually does have a smile on his face."

"Would you contact Ethan for me, please? I'm sure the attorney will do so as well, but it wouldn't hurt to let them know they should come up and get the keys and the like. They currently live in Lancaster, I'm sure it won't take them long."

Her eyebrows drew together. "Isn't that a little quick?"

He smiled. "No, this is a home, not just a house. It shouldn't lie empty. And it will be happier with the sounds of children and young people inside it again. He also has Ethan taking responsibilities for the funeral arrangements. I think he was afraid I'd put on Eth Bin D'oran instead of a good Anglican funeral." he chuckled. I can just hear him, _'I'm not going to let him stick my naked body in the dirt like some damn pagan!'_"

She grinned. "Um. Well, yes, actually, he said something very much like that. Is that the Dosadi funeral that...'eth bin de oran'?"

"Yes. I actually prefer it, no surprise. They don't preserve the bodies, or dress them in fancy clothes or encase them in expensive caskets or even use cemeteries. Instead, they feel you should leave the world the same way you came in – naked. They'll often bury their dead in a farmer's fields so that the dead sustain the living. Then they have a big party, like a wake in a way. Lots of incense, sharing of favorite stories and jokes, that sort of thing."

"He'd be horrified!"

"I know." Angus laughed again, "Instead, Ethan will make sure he gets a very dignified funeral with lots of weeping, his best suit and the best embalming, a _very_ expensive casket and a big headstone in the church cemetery. Which is exactly how Robert would want it." He paused for a moment and then continued, "Oh dear, I've been very insensitive – I hadn't considered _your_ living arrangements!"

Instead of being offended she smiled, "Actually, I was afraid _I_ was going to seem insensitive. I've had another patient waiting for Robert to pass. I'm actually ready to leave as soon as I am no longer needed here."

Robert shook his head with a grin. "It is _so_ refreshing to deal with a human who doesn't tip-toe around these things. Which we've both been doing. Clara, you have truly been wonderful. You can get on to your next patient as soon as you choose. I would not keep you from them. They deserve your help every bit as much as Robert and I did." He stood up and wrapped the young woman in a hug.

She returned the gesture. "Thank you, Mr. MacLaren. I'll likely catch the last train this evening back to Lancaster."

He released her. "Call me Angus, please. _'Twer best done quickly'_, indeed. I think we'll head out first thing tomorrow as well. Rather than sit here watching Ethan and his family pretending to mope over their good fortune, I've got about four days left where I can show the boy some of the sights of Earth." He hemmed and hawed for a moment. "That's not fair. As I said, I'm out of sorts. Ethan and his family loved Robert dearly and will be genuinely aggrieved. That was unkind of me."

"You don't want to be here for Ethan's arrival? To hand over the keys?"

Angus fidgeted uncharacteristically. "I can't put my finger on it, but I'm just not comfortable here now. Maybe I miss my woods – there's too many..._things_ here. Too cluttered. And I don't think I should see them with my tongue being that sharp. I don't want to say something as offensive as what I just did to anyone, much less loved ones."

"The M E will be arriving in about an hour to take charge of Robert's remains. If it's okay with you, Angus, I'll ride along with them?"

"That's fine. And I think Robert would love to know that a pretty young woman was accompanying him on his final ride. You'll handle the paperwork?" He had suddenly realized that with the death of a very prominent person in the area, there would be a fair amount of scrutiny attached. And Shard, for all intents and purposes at the moment, was on Earth illegally. Captain Straw's assistance was invaluable, but it was, strictly speaking, not cricket.

"Of course. Much of it was already done, but Robert had, I believe, always intended me to take care of those last details. It's something I'm very familiar with. Most families, in their grieving, are not prepared for the deluge of paperwork whereas I am all too familiar with it."

Angus shook his head again. "You are truly a blessing and I cannot thank you enough for your kindness."

She touched his arm, "I'm a nurse. It's what we do, Angus. I'll just go and pack my remaining things."

"Shard and I will head out at first light tomorrow. Ethan and his family won't arrive much before ten, I'm sure. He'll have things that must be taken care of at the firm, first thing."

An hour later, while the sun was throwing streamers of purple and orange across the western horizon, the medical examiner arrived and Clara helped the techs get Robert's body loaded onto the gurney and into the transport. She returned to the porch and again hugged Angus. Kneeling down, she wrapped Shard up in her arms, giving him a solid squeeze and said, "You are such an adorable little boy." She ruffled the fur between his ears and stood up again. "It was a pleasure to know you both. I wish you safe travels back to Dosad."

"Thank you, Clara. I'm looking forward to being back there – it's truly my home now. It won't be long."

The young nurse turned and walked down to the waiting transport, waved one last time and was gone, leaving nothing but the sound of the breeze in the trees and the rising song of crickets.

The next morning dawned stormy and cool. Periodic gusts of wind rattled the windows and the rain came down in sheets with occasional pauses while the storm gathered itself for another volley. Angus and Shard stood on the porch, watching the rain come down.

"Well, this surely fits my mood today." MacLaren said, and pulled his hood up. Shard fluffed his fur. He was no stranger to rain. "Let's get going, boy. We'll catch the train back to Lancaster, and then I'll take you to see London! Get you a real high tea and let you see some of Earth's historic places. Then I think, Paris, and Rome and Tokyo. Finish up in San Francisco and head out from there. Does that sound good?"

Following along behind MacLaren, Shard had no idea what any of those places were. "Yes, selenda!" It didn't matter. Anything MacLaren wanted to show him, he would see, and enjoy it. He had already experienced so many wonders in the short time he'd been under his care it was almost unbelievable.

About half way to the transport station in Hawes, two men stepped into their path. The woods were close by the road here, and there was a bend to the motorway. Coupled with the wind and the rain, it made for very poor visibility in any direction.

MacLaren felt Shard stop short and heard footsteps on the macadam. For no reason at all, a chill went down his spine and he started to pull Shard back behind him.

Eric said, quietly, "Get the critter." and reached for MacLaren.

With a dark laugh, Carl said, "Here, kitty." and made a grab for the kit.

Their voices were all the localizing information MacLaren needed. It had been many years since he had been in Starfleet, but he remembered his training; That included how to fight in bad, or no visibility. He stepped in between the two voices and spun around with a back elbow to Eric's head, connecting solidly, driving the younger man to his knees. He shouted "Shard! LOOK OUT! HELP! HELP!" and completed his spin, his left leg sweeping out and tripping Carl.

Carl swore, missing his grab at Shard and only getting hold of fur. Shard squawked and ducked away and scratched at his arms, claws extended, getting a scream of rage from the blond thug.

The footing was poor and the lighting was dim, but two fit young men against an elderly blind man is not a fair fight. MacLaren heard the sound of knives being drawn and Eric's shout, "Don't cut it! You'll ruin the skin!" and his blood ran cold.

Carl tried another grab at Shard and swung the pommel of the knife into the side of his head, knocking his earpiece out and making the kit stagger back a pace.

"Shard! LOP! LOP NUTA!" Angus screamed as he stepped closer to Eric's voice, bringing his knee up and feeling it connect solidly with the man's gut.

The boy didn't need to be told twice. He ran. Carl swore and started after him only to have MacLaren's hand grab his collar and flip him flat onto his back. Shard looked over his shoulder in time to see Eric slash his knife across the side of MacLaren's neck, blood spraying out in a red fan. He stopped for a moment, torn between what MacLaren had told him to do and returning to help his guardian, his friend.

Choking, weakening, but not done yet, MacLaren seemed to sense Shard's hesitation and yelled again "LOP!" before elbowing Eric in the face once more and kicking Carl in the head as the little man tried to rise. "HELP! POLICE! HELP!"

Shard ran. He knew he could hide in the woods. He had done so before, the last time he ran away. He ran for a long time.

Police Officer Roberta Crook checked again the force-cuffs holding the killer's hands. He was on his knees, in the rain, by the side of the road. The sergeant had already covered the body of the old man while the armed response unit went after the other suspect. She checked her PADD to see if the identification information had returned yet.

"So, Bobby-Bobby, what's the good word?" the sergeant asked.

Crook had long since gotten used to the nicknames. She felt that as long as her mates were teasing her, things were at least going passably well. She'd return the teases, with interest, and only worry about it if they started treating her differently. _Everyone_ on the constabulary teased. "Ah, looks like we got two hits, Sergeant. The victim is an Angus MacLaren, Commander, Starfleet, retired. Arrived on Earth via Heathrow two days ago. British national, oh my. That was his brother, Robert MacLaren they just picked up last night."

"From Abbey Limited? The former CEO?" the man whistled quietly, the rain pattering on his slicker. "Doesn't that make this man the CEO?"

"I'll have to look into that Sergeant." She indicated the little blond man. "And the suspect here is one Carl Dornier, no fixed address, late of New York City, an American national. Lengthy criminal record on the other side of the pond."

"Suspect? You came upon him and the other man stabbing the victim's body! I've seen your body-cam footage, Bobby. I'm glad you were keeping an eye on the both of them, just wish you'd been even closer. But with that victim's family, this is going to be a very short trial and a _very_ lengthy prison term. Maybe even psychological reconstruction." he nudged Carl with his boot. "So how about it lad? Why'd you kill MacLaren? Did someone pay you? If you cooperate, they might go easier on you."

Carl said nothing. He'd let Eric do the talking. He sure as hell wasn't going to mention their attempt to kidnap, kill and skin the Dosadi – just what he needed, a second count added to the list. That'd mean reconstruction for sure. He shuddered at the thought. Better life on a prison planet or terraforming than that.

Officer Crook caught sight of something on the ground behind the suspect. _"What's that?"_ She thought, bent down and picked up a small copper starburst with a silver disc in the center. _"Was this just a robbery?"_ she thought as she turned it over in her hand. She took out a small plastic pouch and logged it in as evidence.

In the distance, they could hear the shuttlecraft running a scan pattern over the woods while the tactical armed response unit searched for Eric.

"Well?" the sergeant prompted again. Getting no answer he continued, "Looks like the old man beat the hell out of you besides." The sergeant chuckled. "I think I'd be too embarrassed to talk about it too." There were shouts and the sounds of phaser fire in the woods. The sergeant's comm-badge chirped to life. "Shots fired, shots fired." There was more phaser fire and the sergeant looked at his subordinate. "Why can't they ever do things the easy way?"

Moments later there was a shattering explosion and a glaring white light coming from the woods and all three people ducked involuntarily. "What the _hell?_" Crook asked. The sergeant asked the same thing, tapping on his comm-badge.

The answer came after a short delay: "Suspect had a ghetto-phaser. Took a hit from one of ours and the power-pack let go. Two injured, minor wounds only."

Shard finally stopped running after the sun had set. The wind and the rain were still coming down and he was sure that the men who wanted to skin him would be unable to follow his trail. He had heard more people in the woods and a distant explosion, but wasn't sure what it was. Maybe they were trying to flush him out. He had made it through several stretches of woods and several fields and one river before stopping. He was soaked, muddy, bruised, and his head hurt very badly.

He sat down in the bole of a large tree, trying to shelter some from the wind and the rain, but it wasn't helping much. He curled his tail around his toes and put his head on his knees. He had no doubt that selenda was dead. He tried to keep it together, he tried hard. But it was simply too much for a boy who wasn't even seven yet. He started to cry, and then screamed, a long drawn out howling sound full of anguish and grief and loss and rage and despair. He screamed himself hoarse and then began to sob, crying endlessly until he finally collapsed into a restless, exhausted sleep.

A number of people who lived nearby heard that scream and shivered at the sound; it surely wasn't human. Those who were more superstitious crossed themselves, or lit candles against whatever demon was about in the storm. Others wondered if an unfortunate animal had caught its leg in some illegal trap. None thought to investigate further.


	9. Chapter 8

_**CHAPTER 8**_

"_I may be compelled to face danger, but never fear it, and while our soldiers can stand and fight, I can stand and feed and nurse them." _

― _Clara Barton _

_**CITY OF HIRI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS **_

_**JANUARY 2352**_

__Tharex Slayt sat back in his chair and patted his very full belly. "Ahhhh! That is something, that is."

Sava Irani__winked at his two children, "And what is that, Tharex? That you were able to fit so much of my food into your belly without bursting?"

His children covered their mouths and giggled, a soft barking sort of sound, while their whiskers twitched. Tharex put his hands on his stomach and said, "ohhh, Ohhhh! I ate too much! There's an imbalance!" He leaned closer to the little girl who shrieked and backed away into her brother. "I'm going...to...EXPLOOODE!" He stuck his tongue out and made raspberry noises at her while she giggled and her brother tried to push her away, shrieking with laughter.

Milay Irani smiled indulgently at her guest and her children. She considered herself the most fortunate woman in the world. Her husband and their dear friend were famous and well respected and provided her with a very comfortable living. Her children were healthy and happy, and safe. What more could someone ask for in life? After indulging the horseplay for a few minutes, she stood up and announced, "All right, my babies. It's time for bed. But I'm willing to make an exception for you, Tharex, if you wish to enjoy a smoke with my husband." and she twitched her tail at them both. At home, among close friends, a woman had no need for a scarf to conceal her ears, or a shawl to keep her tail from male eyes.

She gathered up her twin five year-olds and left the dining area to put them to bed, despite their vehement protestations. Sava gave them each a quick hug and a kiss and led his friend into his study for their usual after-meal conversation. He loaded a pipe of anashi for each of them and the two men took a few moments to get them going.

Tharex blew out a long stream of smoke and asked, "So, what have you been working on lately, Sava?"

The other man clenched the long-stemmed pipe in his teeth for a few moments. "You know exactly what I'm working on Sava."

"Well, yes, but it can't hurt to ask, on the off chance you've let your focus wander some."

"Only as long as I need to clear my head. This damn thing has my mind captured."

Tharex sighed. "And mine as well, I'm afraid, but from a different angle." He puffed. "And I confess these attacks upon your reputation, and mine, are part of my motivation."

Sava smiled at his friend, "What's your most recent approach?"

"I've been approaching the problem as one of machines and their application."

"How is it one of machinery? These appear to be tiny animals living within us!"

"Ah, but what is a living being but an incredibly complex machine?"

"There is more to it than that. There is the spirit! The life-force."

"True, but think of it – outside of the life-force, there is much that resembles one of my engines. We burn fuel, we have an intake for fuel and an exhaust, we require lubrication in the form of water, and things must balance or the machine will malfunction."

Sava slapped his hand on the arm of his chair, "Damn it, Tharex, balance, my ears! That is utter nonsense! It is these small invaders that are the cause of our problems! Not some mystical fluid balance!"

The other man held up his hands, "Calm yourself, dear Sava. It is very unlikely that a single thing could cause so many different ailments – there is room for both."

"Bah! Nonsense. Perhaps there are other small creatures that cause other illnesses. Perhaps..." he sighed. "I don't know. I've been unable to devise a method to determine what belongs and what does not. The blue-stain loving creatures are the only ones I can associate with an illness so far, and then only sometimes. I do not understand it. But I am _certain_ I am right."

"Well, in any case, the question is one of seals. In mechanisms, if we have things that we wish kept separate, we use a seal – two liquids, or fine grains of dust and sand, we find ways to prevent the unwanted from gaining access."

"That seems straightforward."

"Exactly. So, I have been trying to find a way to keep your little creatures from gaining access to the blood."

"And have you had any success?"

"I don't know yet – I, of course, have no way to test it. I've only made sketches. Where do these little cells come from? What is their route of access? We have many openings in the body, which of them is their route?"

Sava, miserable, said, "And how would you know if you succeeded? The only proof would be in the negative."

"Which is no proof at all – you would have no way to know if the person would have become ill in the first place. You see my problem?"

"Indeed. And mine as well."

Both men spent a few moments filling the room with pungent smoke. Tharex finally asked, "And what is your current approach?"

"I am hunting the Red Death."

Tharex laughed, "It's not hard to find. It's become an almost annual terror. The only question is which cities will face it." His ears flipped backwards and he bared his teeth. "And which will have the sense to listen to our advice on how to isolate it and let it burn itself out."

"Fools. Each and every time they have listened to us, at least when it was not already too late, the deaths were far fewer."

"AH, but remember, Sava, we are frauds. You are my willing slave, inventing phantasms so that I can sell more books and we can accumulate more wealth and power!"

He snorted and puffed his pipe. "I am trying to predict it's path. To learn where it hides. So that I can prove how it works, and identify how to kill these little cells without killing _us_. I look at it like an even smaller sort of flea..."

"At least these do not cause itching...But, how are you hunting? What weapon are you using?"

"Mathematics."

"That lacks the valor of cannon fire."

"True, but I believe it will be more effective. Here, let me show you." Sava stood up and took down a large roll of map-paper from one of the diamond-shaped wall receptacles. He opened it up and smoothed it across the large table in his study. It was covered with different colored circles of various sizes.

Tharex studied it in silence for a few minutes, attempting to divine his friend's methodology. They rarely just opened with what they had done, instead seeing if the other man would be able to determine the meaning behind what they were shown without aid; it was a way to check their own thought process and the clarity of their presentation.

"Hmmm..." A map of the Red Death, I deduce from our conversation. Correct?"

"Yes."

He put his finger on several cities, one after the other. They were all the same dark color and of various small sizes. "These cities – there were plagues here three years ago. These two listened to our advice, these two did not."

Sava said nothing, watching the finger move from circle to circle, shade to shade, across the map.

Tharex spoke, "The size, the number of dead, is it not?"

"Correct." Sava smiled, puffing away.

"And the color is when – the darker the color the older the record? And these with several circles piled one upon the other are those who were hit several times?"

Sava clapped his hands together. "Quite right! Now, tell me what you see – what meaning is there on this map?"

Tharex returned to his studies, his finger tracing back and forth. Muttering he said, "Now I know why you have been so quiet for so long...Just gathering the data...then compiling it..." he thought to himself for a few moments, then picked up a pencil and a straight-edged tool.

Looking over his shoulder, Sava watched his friend draw several straight lines between several cities on the map, two of which had recent circles drawn upon them. Then he put down the pencil and looked at the map a while longer. Sava said nothing, waiting for Tharex to say or do something else. Finally he picked up a different colored pencil and traced several smaller wandering lines across the map.

Milay picked that moment to come in. "And what is this?" she asked, looking at the large map with all its circles and lines.

Tharex looked up at her, she was beyond lovely with a sweet heart and a laugh like crystal wind-chimes. "What do you think it is, lady?"

She smiled at him and pretended to study it for a very few moments. "Well, clearly it is a diagram of the spread of the Red Death, organized by color for the year and diameter for the number of dead."

Tharex's mouth hung open. "How..." he looked back down at the map. "You..."

Milay laughed and hugged him. "Dear Tharex, Sava has talked of nothing else for many days. He was putting the finishing touches on it only last night. It's not often I get to tease you like that!"

Tharex returned the hug while his friend smiled indulgently at him. "That was unkind!" he laughed back; clearly insincere.

She let him go and looked at the map again. "But what are these new lines? These weren't here when he showed me his masterpiece last night?"

Tharex said, "That's fine then! Now we have a true test of your powers of deductive reasoning!" It was his turn to tease. Everyone knew that women had no real faculty for maps or mathematics.

She dutifully examined the map, looking at the names of the cities and the lines connecting them. After a little bit of study she ventured a guess. "These straight lines – your new airships? There are only three routes and there are three lines and they all go right from Hiri without following any road."

"Very good!" Tharex was pleased.

"Then these other lines, are they...Well, the best spices come from Stona, and this line goes from there to the port of Crenela, are these where the caravans travel?"

"Well done!" they both clapped. Tharex was impressed. But he always knew she was clever and smart – she had landed Sava, after all! The two of them were perfect for each other. He continued to tease her, "And what conclusions can you draw?" He and Sava hadn't even really come up with any definitive answers yet.

"It follows travel routes."

"What?" Sava and Tharex both exclaimed. At a glance they could see she was correct. It was the thought hovering on the edge of Tharex's consciousness when he drew the lines, but his mind had yet to give it voice. The most circles were along the caravan routes, and they became more recent as you went along the lines. Both men quickly began tracing their fingers from place to place, talking excitedly at the same time.

"Look! The outbreak of 2348 – here first, then here two months later, and finally here two months after that."

"Here – 2349, here, to here, to here..."

"2350, from here to here, where it stopped! They sealed the affected portions of the city no one in or out and it went no further..."

"But here, they did no such thing and it continued on..."

Milay asked, "Is there one for this year?"

"Not yet, my love." Sava answered. "The Red Death doesn't usually show up until summer time. And you'll note that the circles are bigger every year."

"Will it come here?"

Tharex and Sava looked at each other.

Milay held her hand over her mouth. "My babies!"

Sava took his wife into his arms, "You needn't worry, Milay. When it comes here, we'll make sure they _listen_ to us and by then, we may know how to beat it."

Tharex declared, "You know I would do anything to keep you and yours from any harm."

She allowed herself to be comforted, squeezing her husband. When he released her she put a delicate hand on Tharex's. "If there is anyone who can, it will be the two of you."

Later that evening, when Tharex had said his good-byes and left into the night to make his way back to his own home, Milay and Sava were preparing themselves for sleep. Sava watched his wife change out of her clothing. She truly was a great beauty. "He loves you, you know."

Primly, beginning to brush her hair and tail she answered, "Of course I know."

"And you?"

She laughed, "Of course I love him, Sava." She winked at her husband, "Just not in the same way." She stood up and took his hands, "And not in the way that I love you. You are the source of my children, the provider of my home, and the center of my life. Where you have always been.

"Tharex is a dear, dear friend – to us both! - and my fondest hope for him is that he will one day find a woman who can put up with his oddities. Until then, I will accept his love and give my own back, in my own way. Everyone should have someone to love."

He stroked the smooth fur of her arm, tracing the lines of color. "You are a marvel."

She caressed the side of his face, pulling him close. "And you are a flatterer." she teased before leaning forward and nipping at his ears.

Pleasantly full, warmed by the comradeship of his friends, and lost in thought, Tharex Slayt didn't so much walk to his own home as he meandered that direction. The night was pleasantly cool – with any luck there would be a dusting of snow overnight – and the Veil of Fire was visible through breaks in the clouds. He was surely in no hurry. Nights like tonight were inspirational – many of his best ideas started on walks such as these.

Instead of inspiration, Tharex was instead struck by another person, also apparently daydreaming; he bumped into someone walking the other way, carrying two large cases and also looking up at the sky.

"Oh, excuse me, sir!" he said, catching sight of their ears and their clothing; Much like his own, a mishmash of styles and accessorized with various items ranging from goggles around their neck to a large watch and what appeared to be a small took-kit belted to their waist. A moment later he caught their scent.

"I beg your pardon." she said, stepping back, "And it's ma'am, not sir."

Tharex blinked, his good night-vision letting him see her clearly in the faint, flickering light from the Veil. She was dressed as a man, well, almost. Her jacket was belted in tightly, shamelessly showing the curves of her hips and her tail was fully exposed; a lovely, bushy and white-tipped appendage, flicking slightly in irritation. Her ears were rimmed with a fine, black line and were both focused on him at the moment. She was anything but delicate – nearly as tall as he was and solidly built. Her eyes were a deep golden brown, her nose a...

"Are you all right?" she asked after bearing his scrutiny for far longer than was polite.

"Ah, I, that is, yes, ma'am, of course, it's just that you are dressed as, that is to say your clothes are not, I mean to say..."

She interrupted him, "And why should I care two flips of my tail what clothing other people set aside for me? I wear what I need to wear for my job!"

Tharex opened his mouth again, flummoxed, "Your...job?" Women didn't have jobs. Women made a home, they raised children, they were the very core of society. Why would _any_ woman want a job? The very idea was preposterous.

She set her cases down, refusing to move from his path. "Yes, my job. You may close your mouth, good sir." She put her hand on one hip. "I am as capable as any man."

Unkindly, Tharex laughed, and then immediately chopped it off and pretended to cough. "And what is it that you are so capable at, lady?"

"I am a writer, sir, and a camera operator as well. I do research and sell my stories to the news publishers in the cities. Illustrated stories!"

Again, Tharex was shocked. "You...can operate the new camera machines?"

She snorted. "I design them, and I make my own plates as well!" She continued to stand, facing Tharex, the two of them along the side of the road in the dark.

"I...I have _never_ encountered a woman who had any mechanical aptitude whatsoever, and the only women writers I have learned of write little pieces focusing on the home or garden. Are you here to write such a story? Ah, of course, you are here for the upcoming floral festival!" Tharex nodded to himself.

"You assume so much based upon so little! And ignore all of the salient facts. Are you a day-laborer, perhaps? A digger? Yes, you have that look." her ears were back and her tail was flicking rapidly back and forth.

Tharex laughed again, "Oh my! Such a very typical woman, no knowledge of anything outside your domestic spheres. I am a mechanist. And if my deduction is so faulty, correct me! What story do you seek?"

"I am here to expose a pair of frauds. Or, perhaps, to clear their names." She smiled. "I will investigate them and see what the truth is."

His ears pricked up. "A pair? And who are these men?"

"Tharex Slayt and Sava Irani." she looked at him. "They have been accused of being frauds because of some of their more recent pronouncements. But both men have a long history of startling breakthroughs." She paused for a moment and Tharex tried not to show his pride. "Both of them are forward thinking, advanced intellects, not bound by the silly and pointless traditions of those who have gone before. Not something you are capable of understanding, I'm sure. In any case, I will find out the truth. That's what I do."

His ears drooped for a moment. "Not all traditions are silly, or pointless. They serve a purpose, they help keep society structured and moving forw..."

She interrupted. "As I said, not something you are capable of understanding."

Tharex's jaw dropped. Women did not interrupt men. Particularly not strange men they had just met on the street. And they certainly did not insult them. "I was trying to tell you that..."

She bent down and picked up her large cases again. "I'm sure it's very interesting. But I need to find lodging for the night and then tomorrow I need to find my quarry! I'm sure you can understand that."

"_I_ am Tharex Slayt!" he finally spat out, much more quickly than he intended.

She laughed. "Of course you are. And I am a thrail. You obviously don't know the first thing about the man."

"I beg your pardon?! I know _everything _about him for I _am_ him!"

She studied him for a few moments. "Do you even know the first thing about anything that he has done?" He did appear similar to the descriptions she had heard of the famous inventor.

"Of course! But it would be pointless to explain them to you, as you most certainly would be unable to comprehend any of the basic concepts."

She snorted – a very unladylike sound - "A dodge. A pathetic attempt to deflect the question. Are you delaying me for a reason?"

Tharex was becoming irritated. "I assure you I have no interest in where you go, or when, except so far as it seems that you seek _me_! Ask me any question and I shall prove my identity."

She sighed and set the cases down again. "Surely a waste of time. Let me start simply. What is the underlying principle of the Slayt Engine?"

"Why, the cyclical alternation of pressures in gas cylinders as moderated by a heat exchanger, of course. But I'm sure that is not anything you are familiar with, so I shall attempt to simplify my explanation..." There were many businessmen who had a difficult time understanding how his engine worked.

She didn't give him the chance. "I made it too easy! You could have read that in any news sheet. Fine. Tell what it is that truly drives this engine."

He scowled at her. "The relationship between pressure, temperature, and volume of a gas, and the temperature differential of the two cylinders."

Her ear flicked backwards. "And how does that relate to the great airships?"

He twitched his tail. "The pressure expansion of the gas within the bladders is moderated by heat exchange and the pressure..."

She finished "differential of altitude...Transferring the heat of the gas to the engines to descend, absorbing it to ascend..." Both her ears flicked again. She may have erred. "And his friend, Sava Irani, the source of his discoveries is?"

Tharex was starting to smile. "His skill and patience in making glass, most especially his fanatical attention to the purity of his source materials and the polishing – traits that translate well to his studies of both large and small. You are aware of his research into the Red Death?"

"The small invaders that he postulates have..." She cleared her throat. "I'm terribly sorry – you _are _Tharex Slayt, aren't you?"

Grinning broadly he declared, "As I said. But who are you, lady? I confess you have astonished me beyond words and courtesy."

She lowered her nose and ears, "I am Anakee Sayaret, sir. I hope I gave no offense?"

He laughed, "None that will cause any lasting harm." Struck by a sudden inspiration he asked, "You said you sought lodging for the night; It is late, most will have sealed their doors and be unwilling to open them for travelers."

"I know, I was delayed on the way in to town."

"Some breakdown, perhaps? Or a turn in the weather in the passes?"

She chuckled, an oddly masculine sound he thought. "No, thieves sought to help themselves to our possessions."

"Were the men able to drive them away?"

Both her ears flicked back again. "Of course not. The thieves believed they had the danger covered. Right up until I shot all four of them. They seemed most confused, right up until their last breath. I believe the final man was most distressed as I made sure to take several plates of his dying moments."

Tharex's mouth hung open. "You had your camera machine ready?"

"Oh no, I had to get it set up."

"But that takes...quite some time."

"Yes. He seemed rather upset that I refused him any aid. I think the two men on my liner were nearly as upset. I was quite careful how I shot him. I was very curious to see the effects of a bullet to the middle-spine. The other three, I had to hurry. But never fear, I have plates of the effects of the bullet upon their skulls and heart."

His mouth still hanging open he asked, "You...Shot...Then...Camera..."

"Do you think that only men can kill? Good sir, it is the tool, not the user."

He closed his mouth. He was wavering between horrified and fascinated. "But the effects of bullets upon the body are already well documented."

"This is a bullet of my own design."

"_Your_ design."

"Yes! Here, let me show you." In the dim light, she reached into a small pouch and pulled out a bullet, nearly half an inch across. The center had been dug out and small notches cut into the four cardinal points of the circle.

"They expand! But why did you remove so much material? Here, look..." He pulled out one of his own fifty caliber expanding bullets. "With just a simple pair of crossing grooves, you get expansion without the loss of mass..."

"But with less mass, I get higher velocity and I have found that the expansion is significantly higher and...but when did you...?"

"Some two years ago, though I have not publicized the modification. I am still refining it. Previous attempts at such a project have suffered greatly from loss of stability, of course."

"Oh." She seemed crestfallen. "I only completed these a few weeks ago."

"But that is marvelous! For a woman to have..." She had flipped both her ears backwards. "I beg your pardon, I am out of sorts, clearly." He reached a decision. "I mean nothing forward by this, but since you have arrived so late, and are clearly a unique woman, would you take lodgings at my home tonight? I assure you that I am quite harmless."

"I would be happy to! This will be marvelous for my story!"

Shocked again, "You have no concerns? I am unmarried, you know, I live alone. There will be talk, no doubt."

She laughed and flicked her exposed tail. "For which I care not at all."

He bent down and picked up one of her cases, when he reached for the other, she took it instead. "Perhaps you would be willing to develop the plates you have taken of the thieves? I would be interested to compare the effects of your modifications to my own." He coughed delicately, "I too have taken several plates of a thief who thought himself too clever."

The following morning found the two of them at Tharex's home, crumbled bits of paper scattered about his work room, bits of lead, gunpowder, and cartridge paper. It was clear that there had been no sleep for either.

"No, no, Anakee, that wouldn't work, look the striker would have to maintain a needle-like point and be able to drive into and through the cartridge to impact the cap! That cannot happen with the arc that the striker moves through."

"There must be some way – if the cap could be at the end of the bullet itself, the burn would be more complete and the expanding gasses would not interfere with the burn."

He shook his head, "It would also make the ammunition more dangerous, why any strike on the end would cause it to go off! Caps are notoriously unstable, You would have to find some way to make the striker move back and forth in a straight line, and the mechanics are not there for that unless you are going to make the trigger mechanism a slide, which would be difficult to manipulate."

"So we need the needle portion of the striker to go back and forth while the striker itself moves in an arc."

Both of them looked at each other. "Of course!" Tharex exclaimed. "look! We encase the needle and spring-load it, while the striker hits the flat end, driving the point through the paper into and through the powder until it strikes the cap! Except, with the rotation of the cylinder, it would make for a very long and unwieldy design."

"Could we do away with the rotating cylinder?"

"Not unless you wanted to go back to a single-shot weapon where you drop each round into the breech before firing. The entire mechanism would have to slide backwards so that you could insert the round, and then slide forward..."

"Or be pushed up...by a spring! Like a clockwork!"

"Yes! Brilliant! Here..." he sketched quickly, "A stack of pre-assembled paper, powder, cap, and bullet resting on a platform, a spring below, pushing them upward. The entire needle assembly becomes a plunger, each shot pushes the plunger back, the next cartridge assembly slides up, the spring here pushes the plunger forward, driving the group into an unmoving cylinder. When the trigger is pulled, the hammer strikes the end of the needle and pushes it through the cartridge and powder and into the cap, firing the bullet! Then the entire cycle repeats without any intervention!"

"Look, look – like clockwork – add an additional spring and winder here and you could make the thing fire itself! Tick, tock, click, clock, bing, bang!" she traced the various steps with her pencil point.

Tharex sat back and looked at his new friend. "You are the most astonishing woman I have ever met." He waved his hand at the chaos of his home. Dishes lay where he had left them, clothing was draped over furniture, half-finished gadgets were everywhere as were tools and materials. Books and documents were everywhere. "This...does not offend your sensibilities?"

She barely glanced up, "Why should I care how you organize your home? What is important is how you organize your thoughts!" She looked again at the diagram, "Do you suppose a slight ramp here would smooth the insertion of..."

He interrupted with a laugh, "I must introduce you to my friends Sava and Milay. What are your plans for this evening?"

"Well, I had hoped to spend the day locating Tharex Slayt and Sava Irani, but I seem to have found them so I confess I am free to meet with you both." She smiled at him.

Despite her rather solid build and shameless manner of dress, he found that smile nearly as intriguing as the mechanism they were sketching out. She was no Milay; in fact, was nearly her polar opposite, but she was the first woman he had ever encountered that he could actually _talk _to. And her eyes danced when she smiled; as much as they burned when she was angered.

Returning his gaze to the sketches, he reached for a pencil only to find that his hand instead landed upon hers. They both froze for a moment. He quickly withdrew his hand, "I'm terribly sorry. I did not mean to be forward – I intended only to gain the pencil..."

Rather than being offended she said, "I doubt a simple touch will cause much havoc in the world, Tharex." She picked the pencil up and made a minor modification to the sketch. "This evening you say?" She paused briefly. "And what were your plans for the rest of the day?" She glanced up at him, her eyes smoldering.

Shocked, Tharex stuttered, "I..uh..I well...That is..."

She laughed and surprised him again by putting her hand on his. "I'm sorry, Tharex. I was poking fun at you. You are so _different_ from what I expected; so traditional! One minute you speak to me as though I were a colleague, the next as though I were a woman-for-hire."

"It is just that you are so _different_...Um...Your dress, your mannerisms, your way of speech I never know what to expect from you!"

"Good. Now, perhaps we can talk some about _my_ research?"

Slightly off-balance from the sudden subject change. "Your research?"

Taking a pad of paper and a new pencil from a pocket on her jacket she said "You, and Sava Irani."

"Ah!" He ran his fingers through his whiskers. "What about if we go and get some breakfast and we can talk while we fill our bellies?"

"That sounds like a very good idea." She agreed.

That evening, on their way to the Irani home, Anakee asked Tharex, "I'm again surprised at you, Tharex."

He looked down from the skies, "Huh? Why is that?"

"You didn't ask me to put on proper clothing before meeting the Irani family."

Puzzled for a moment Tharex admitted, "You know, I forgot about that. I was so engrossed in our conversation that it has come to seem normal to me to see you in such shameless...er..." her ears had flicked back and her eyes flashed fire, "unusual clothing. They may have questions about it." he shrugged, "They are good people and Milay has the social graces of an elite hostess."

"Well, we shall see." A few yards further on they stopped at a doorway angled downward into the dug-out home typical of the Drenians' dwellings. Much like doors on a Mid-western storm-cellar, they were designed to open outward. Tharex twisted the ringer, listening to the musical notes as the clapper struck several rods in sequence. A few moments later, he could see Milay looking at him through the window by the door.

"You may open the door and enter!" she called out. Tharex bent down and hauled the left-hand door open, and waited, politely for Anakee to enter. Milay stood to the side and waited for her friend to come inside. If she were shocked, she made no sign. Instead, she hugged Tharex warmly and asked politely "And who is my other guest?"

Tharex made the introduction, "M'lady Milay Irina, I would like to bring to your attention Anakee Sayaret, a woman of my acquaintance since last night. She has astonished me with her skills and knowledge in a number of areas. M'lady Anakee Sayaret, this is Milay Irina who has been one of my dearest friends for many years."

As the one introduced, Anakee answered, "Hello! So you're Sava's wife?" Seeing Tharex's discomfort at her non-standard response, she explained herself. "Ah. Um, sorry, I have been shocking poor Tharex since I met him as I tend to make my own way in the world rather than following someone else's."

Milay wasn't fazed in the slightest. "Please come inside and be at home. I'm sure you've noticed that Tharex himself tends to make things up as he goes." She winked at her friend, "It is part of his charm." She led the way further into the house. "With Tharex and Sava, it's best to be prepared for most anything."

When they walked in, Sava did a double-take at seeing Anakee, but like his wife said nothing. Instead he invited to her to have a seat at the table. His children were looking at each other and giggling and covering their pointy noses and mouths. Finally his son said "You can see her _ears_! And her _tail_!"

His daughter, trying to beat her twin to the discovery, came up with "She looks like a _boy_!"

Sava looked at both sternly, "And you both shame me with your rudeness to my _guest_." And he turned his face away from both, ignoring them utterly. To Anakee he said, "Please, make yourself comfortable and join the _rest_ of us for our meal. These two " he flipped his ear backwards at his children, "Can learn courtesy through hunger."

Four little ears and two sets of whiskers drooped. Milay came in a few moments later with the first platter of food, carefully ignoring her children's begging looks. Her sharp hearing had kept her aware of their status.

Anakee took pity on them. "Oh, don't be too hard on them. They're young and I'm very different from what they are used to. It's good that they notice details."

Sava, continuing to ignore his children's downcast faces and postures answered her, "True, and that I encourage. However, civility is the very basis of civilization. It is one thing to _notice _that someone or something is different. It is entirely a different thing to call out that difference intending to belittle the person or otherwise cause shame.

"You are my guest, and therefore should be treated with the utmost deference and respect. My children _should_ have made a personal note that your manner of dress is not that which they are used to and brought it up for discussion, politely, at a later time. _Not_ shouted it out in order to draw everyone's attention to that fact. They sought only to embarrass you and make the rest of us impressed with their keen powers of observation."

By now, the twins were crushed by their father's disapproval. Milay was continuing to bring the meal in from the kitchen while he continued, and placing none of it before them. Anakee knew that his remarks were addressed to them, despite his attention being on her.

"For example, on one of Tharx and my expeditions, we encountered a people who often wore _no_ clothing! Or just a simple cloth tied about the waist." Both children gasped at this admission. Their father had never mentioned _that _detail before.

Finally turning to them, he said, "Yes. Where they live it is very, very hot and humid and the clothing we wore was very uncomfortable. Further, we found, much to our sorrow, that the clothing also provided a convenient home to many unpleasant insects, held in water from the air, and mildewed quickly, becoming quite aromatic! These people thought us quite mad for covering up as we do.

"Can you imagine how they would have reacted to us had we begun to snicker and jest at their very sensible choice? Why, we quite likely would not have returned alive! They were also a savage and fierce people who were as quick to fight strangers as to welcome them."

Meka, the little boy asked, "But then why does _she_ dress like that?" he asked his father, quickly being echoed by his sister, Feya.

"Now, wouldn't it have made more sense to have learned that fact _before_ you decided to make a remark that was only intended to embarrass my guest? Which shames _me_?"

More downcast looks and in stereo, "Yes, father. We're sorry, father."

He glared at them for a few moments until they realized their mistake. In tandem, they looked up at Anakee, "We're sorry, ma'am."

She waved it off, "It was nothing. I'm quite used to it." She was going to ask Sava a question, but in the space of a breath he was continuing his lesson to his children.

"Now, to your question. How might you have gone about _politely_ learning why the lady has chosen to dress as she does?"

Anakee cocked her head at the three of them. Clearly, teaching and learning was a constant activity in the Irani home.

Feya answered first for once, "Ask her?"

Meka elbowed her, "Politely!"

Sava nodded. "Or you could draw her answer out a piece at a time by asking specific questions about each item you have noted that is different from what you expect. And rather than subjecting my guest to a barrage of questions, you spread them throughout the conversation." He nodded to Feya.

The little girl asked "Why do you wear..." and noted her father's disapproving look. She quickly restructured her question, struggling with some of the words and with periodic glances at Tharex. "Excuse me, ma'am, may I ask why you look...why you picked the um why you have chosen the clothing you wear?"

Anakee grinned. "Because I choose not to be bound by the rules that everyone else follows. Because I choose to have a job and do what I will, rather than what others have decided I must do. And because I find that men's clothing is much more useful for my job than women's."

The twins were stunned. Sava had already guessed as much.

Meka asked, "You have a _job? _But you're a..." and chopped it off at the backward twitch of his father's ears. Swallowing quickly he started again, mangling his pronunciation some and trying very hard to sound like his father.. "How interesting. Would you be so kind as to indulge my curiosity as to what job?" He was stealing glances at his father to see if he had it right.

Tharex, meanwhile, had been providing little mood hints with his facial expressions and body posture – hints that Sava was choosing to ignore, but that both twins were using as gospel guidance.

Anakee tried not to giggle, "I research stories that I then sell to the news publishers. And I use my camera machine as well so that the stories are illustrated!"

Meka couldn't help himself, "_Stories?_ What kind of stories? Are you writing one now?"

Feya also couldn't stand it any more "I didn't know girls could do that! How come..."

Both twins lapsed into silence again. Meka continued, again, mimicking his father. "Please forgive our unstable curiousness, ma'am."

At that, Tharex did laugh and Anakee had to cover her own mouth.

Sava corrected the boy, "Insatiable, Meka, not unstable. And curiosity, not curiousness."

Tharex, still holding back a laugh offered, "Oh, I'm not so sure, my friend. They are _your_ children, so unstable curiousness fits pretty well."

Sava shot him a '_you're not helping_' look.

Anakee answerd the boy, "I'm writing a story about your father and his partner here."

Milay began to serve everyone – except the twins, who were watching the food being distributed with very poorly-concealed looks of complete starvation.

Sava tapped on the table-top. "I think you have interrogated our guest enough for the moment. Please allow the rest of us to enjoy some conversation."

In concert again, eyes locked on their empty plates, they said in mournful voices, "Yes, father."

After a few moments with their meals, Sava looked at his wife, "Well, my lovely wife." He dabbed at his whiskers and chin with a cloth. "Do you believe these two have learned anything useful at all yet?"

She pretended to study her children, who were doing their very best to look like angels. Starving angels. "Hmmm. I think the odds are good. Some progress, at least."

"Very well. They may eat as well." he nodded.

"Thank you father!" came the enthusiastic response.

At meal's end, Tharex and Sava headed off towards Sava's study and Anakee turned to follow them. Milay asked her, "Anakee, would you be so good as to help me clean up?" The twins were both already starting to clear the table.

The photo-journalist stopped, one foot in the air. She very much wanted to go be part of that conversation and perhaps have a smoke as well. But to refuse such a request from her hostess would be the height of rudeness. She returned her foot to the floor and pivoted, picking up some of the plates from the table. "Of course. It would be my privilege to do so."

A short while later the two women, as different as night and day, were washing dishes. Anakee was obviously longing to head off to the study. Finally bowing to the inevitable she asked, "Milay, how can you stand to be reduced to... just _this_ for your life?"

Agreeably, her furry hands soaked with soapy water, Milay answered with a question, "_Just_ this?"

"You are clearly of superior intelligence and capability." The dinner-time conversation had made it clear that Milay was every bit her husband's equal in many areas. "Yet, you are _forced_ to spend your days washing dishes, preparing food, wiping noses and bottoms and...I don't know, _dusting_. What a waste!"

Setting another plate in a drying rack she said "A waste? Forced? Anakee, I _choose_ to be what I am and what I _love_ to be. A wife, a mother, a home-maker. And I'm _good_ at it. You list those tasks off as though they are distasteful. Every day I look around me and I see a comfortable _home_. My dishes are my own and clean and ready to entertain guests; something I love. Washing dishes is a lovely way to relax and digest and think about the dinner conversation or..." She smiled at Anakee, "have quieter conversation with a lady guest. I like cooking and take great pleasure in watching my family or guests find pleasure in eating what I cook. And wiping noses and bottoms, while not the most pleasant task in the world, is part of creating two lovely people. I am an artist and those two are my masterpiece, a lasting contribution to the world well beyond any discovery or invention of my husband or his friend."

Not quite sure how to take this, Anakee decided to try a different approach. "But you are _excluded_ from the Study! From their conversation!"

Milay laughed and scrubbed at another plate. "Do you need to be part of every conversation that happens around you? Have you never wanted a private conversation with someone? Or to spend time alone with a particular friend?"

"Well yes, but..."

Uncharacteristically Milay interrupted, "And would you enjoy having an uninvited participant in your conversation? Or _being_ such an uninvited participant? Who wants to be where they are not welcome?"

"But the Study is part of your home and you are excluded!"

"For the moment, yes. Sava enjoys time deep in thought and conversation with Tharex without having to worry about anyone else's feelings or courtesy or anything other than their talk. And believe me, he appreciates knowing that we are not co-joined. That we can both enjoy our separate activities – together."

"Have you never wanted to be anything more?"

"More." She laughed. "There is nothing 'more' than being what I am. Have I ever wanted to be anything different? No, sincerely no. I know many little girls dream of doing the things boys do; Not I. I have always dreamed of being what I am, and for that I am the most fortunate woman alive. Have _you_ never wanted to be anything more than a story teller? To have a husband and home to return to each night, warm with the love of family?"

Anakee shuddered. "No. Many times no. Such a life would be like a prison for me."  
"And your life would be a living hell for _me._" Milay watched as Anakee set another dish in the drying rack. "Isn't it interesting that our people can be so varied?"

"Yes, but because of _my_ variation, most people treat me as strange at best, dangerous at worst, and tend to shun me! It is difficult to find work once my gender is known. Much of the time I must sell my work under a false name! Why should I be treated so differently?!"

Milay laughed quietly. "Because you _are _different. And usually, different is dangerous; My husband has taught me this. Animals in the wild look for that which is different because that is what is likely a threat."

"How could I be a threat?"

"I don't know. But I think you frighten people because of how different you are. Well, some people. Most people like the familiar, the usual, to not have their perceptions changed. When you present them with something new and different, there will be resistance. Sava and Tharex have learned that often, and are learning it again."

Anakee cocked her head at Milay again. "Sava's tiny invaders."

"Yes. Despite all those two have discovered and created, they are now being treated as frauds."

"That is my purpose, you know. To discover the truth."

"Good!" Milay stated emphatically.

"I appreciate that you would take your husband's side in this, Milay. But I will find out if they are hiding anything, or attempting to fool people for some reason. I am not swayed by friendliness or courtesy or anything else."

"Good!" Milay grinned, "Then I think we'll get along just fine. My husband is an honest man and preaches a religion of facts and observation untainted by personal wishes or beliefs. If you are what you say, you will observe, and you will find the facts are that they are right. They always are."

_**CITY OF HIRI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS **_

_**MAY 2352**_

__The outbreak of the Red Death had come early this year, and moved with a speed that was unusual. Within two weeks of the first reported cases, the city found itself with its center and northwest corner clustered with the sick and the dying. Governor Orin had summoned several experts to advise him on how best to proceed. Among them were Sava and Tharex who had found themselves on the defensive immediately; Several well-known medical experts had objected to their inclusion on the basis of the questions relating to their reputation as well as the outlandishness of their theory.

One of those experts, Philo Ern had immediately gone on the offensive. "Governor, while I appreciate all the many and varied contributions of Sava and Tharex, this is simply not their area of expertise. Perhaps if they stayed within their skills, they would be able to be of more use than they have been these past few years."

Sava refused to rise to the bait. "The fact remains, Orin, that those cities that have done as we have advised and done so early suffered far less from the disease than those who failed to do so."

Anakee stayed in the background, scribbling notes as fast as she could write, ignoring the disapproving glances of the other participants in the meeting.

Philo continued, "Advice based upon what, exactly, Sava? A guess? A feeling? You have no idea why your advice worked in those situations. It was mere chance. In fact, your advice doomed many within the sealed areas to death by starvation or lawlessness, or other cause!"

"Based upon the _fact _that by preventing those who had contact with the sickness from contacting those without it, we prevented..."

The other man and his colleagues laughed. "Because, of course, these little cells you have seen in your microscope cause all manner of wickedness!"

"It is true! Our data have shown that the blood of those who are ill contain them while..."

"You waste time. Governor, I too have a reputation for experimentation and I have been conducting one that proves, _again_ what we all know – that disease behavior is caused by an imbalance in the bodily fluids caused by external factors such as the environment, dietary and exercise habits and the like."

Before Tharex and Sava could comment, the Governor interrupted them by raising his hand. "And what is this experiment?"

Philo smiled – not a nice smile at all. He turned to one of his fellows, "Greel, would you be so kind as to get the cart?" The other man nodded and quickly stepped into the hallway while Sava and Tharex looked at each other with some concern. "Now, good Sava, you maintain that the Red Death is caused by these tiny little cells within the blood, correct?"

"Absolutely." Sava agreed with some heat.

"Well then, clearly were we to put them within a living being, that being should come down with the Red Death, correct?"

Sava and Tharex looked at each other. They had attempted the same experiment, several times, with no result.

Orin agreed, "That seems only sensible."

"Look here then." He pulled the covering cloth off the large cart that Greel had wheeled into the office. "I have here six small varus, collected from within the city just a few weeks ago. These two, I injected with the blood of a person who was ill with the Red Death." he bent down and made little cooing noises at the small, tan and grey colored rodent-like creatures who happily stood up on their hind legs and begged for treats. "They do not seem to be suffering from the pitiless assault of these evil cells.

"And here, these two, I deliberately caused a fluid imbalance within their bodies by forcing an excess of water into them at every opportunity. You will note that they are both coughing up bloody froth and greenish mucus, very much like the Red Death. One must make adjustments for their smaller size, of course. And these two, I again created an imbalance within them by starving them of certain foods. Notice the lethargy, the lost teeth, and sores so typical of other diseases.

"So, as you see, I test both theories. The one fails, the other succeeds. These two are frauds." He turned and asked, his voice dripping sweetness, "Sava, Tharex, tell us, have you attempted such an experiment as well?"

Sava tried to explain, "There is more to it than..."

"The question is simple, Sava. Have you or have you not conducted such an experiment? And if you have, why have you not published the results? Could it be that there is no way that something so tiny could affect something so large as a person?"

The room was silent for several seconds. Sava finally said, "I have, but I have not completed them yet. There is more to a disease process than such a simplistic approach and..."

Rudely, Philo interrupted again. "Of course there is more, because you have not gotten the result you wish. Governor, you have seen with your own eyes the failure of Sava's theory and the proof of the accepted theory, the one that has served medicine well for many, many years. The science is settled."

Tharex, angry asked, "Then what is _your_ advice for halting the spread of the Red Death? And how many have been saved by following _your _advice?"

Philo, agreeably said, "To make certain that those in the afflicted areas are kept properly cared for to ensure that their fluids stay in proper balance. Good food, hydration, exercise out of doors and regular checks by _qualified_ medical experts."

Governor Orin was listening to both groups. "Philo Ern, wasn't your advice tried last year in Tangeen? What was the outcome there?"

The man looked uncomfortable. "That was not a proper example, Governor. By the time they asked for my advice, there were so many deep in imbalance that there were not enough qualified medical experts to go around. The drain on the city's resources ensured that many more would fall ill before the supplies of good food and water and care again matched the population."

Orin looked at the map that Tharex and Sava had used to illustrate their ideas. His tail lashed back and forth several times. "And your advice is the same?"

Sava spoke while Tharex nodded his agreement. "Yes. Isolate the afflicted areas. Seal them completely. Let the disease burn itself out."

"Your homes are within the afflicted area; you know this?"

"Yes." Sava agreed.

"And you should be allowed out before I order them sealed, of course?"

"No. We are as suspect as any other. You have placed everyone in this room at risk by bringing us here."

The Governor thought for a while longer. If nothing else, the two men were not cowards. "There is room for both approaches here. I will seal these areas immediately. Let fences be erected and guards be posted. Once in, no one and nothing comes out. However, we shall support them with all of the _good_ food and other supplies we can spare. With one exception, no medical experts will be allowed to enter without my express permission. In case you are wrong, gentlemen, they will be needed outside these areas. Those who are already there will have to carry the load.

"However, to assist them, all women between the ages of 14 and 40 shall be called into my service. They will report to the medical centers to care for those who are ill. To make sure that any imbalances are put to rights as quickly as possible while under the direction of the experts."

Sava and Tharex both gasped, "No!" Sava continued, "My wife! You cannot expose her to..." Anakee as well raised her head.

Orin continued on. "Let this be done. You are dismissed, gentlemen."

None of the men and one woman leaving Orin's office were even remotely happy that day.

Back at Sava's home, Sava was holding his wife tightly while Anakee sat back comfortably in a big chair with a drink. Tharex sat apart, his head in his hands.

Milay did her best to calm her husband. "Shhhh. It will be fine."

Sava, near tears told her, "Once you report to the medical centers, you mustn't return home until the Red Death has run its course. You will expose the children..." he couldn't continue.

"Yes, I know. You've explained it all before." She smoothed the fur on the back of his head.

"It will kill you. Perhaps we can hide you. Yes, yes, we can find someplace that "

She interrupted him. "Don't speak nonsense, my love. It is my duty to help, and what of Anakee? Would you leave her to her fate?"

"But...No, We will...There must..."

She had never seen her husband so frantic, so panicked and so lost. "Dear Sava, you must do what you do best. You and Tharex must find a way to protect us, or to solve the puzzle completely. "

Tharex stood up, his face black with rage and smashed his fist down on the table. "INTOLERABLE!" was all he said and stormed out of the house.

It was a full day later when Tharex, his fur unkempt, wearing the same clothing and with a wild look in his eyes returned. He didn't even sound the chime, storming into the Irani home unannounced. "Sava! Sava! I have it! Quickly!"

Sava looked at his friend with some concern. Milay immediately went to the kitchen to fetch something to drink for him. Sava asked, calmly, "What is that you are saying?"

"To protect them! A Seal! Seal it off! Don't you see? We seal them off!"

Somewhat confused he asked, "What? Are you saying to seal the house itself? So that they cannot leave and nothing can get in?"

"No, no, no, man, we seal _them_! Then they can work with those who are ill with impunity no matter _what_ causes this disease. As I said previously, all that is needed is a seal to keep things apart within any machine!"

Sava was beginning to be concerned for Tharex's sanity. "You cannot seal a living being apart from all others and expect it to continue to live, Tharex."

"Not completely – just block all the access routes for these invaders. Here...Anakee! Stand up! You will be my test case!" He quickly strode over to the younger woman and pulled her to her feet, rudely placing his hands on her upper arms to do so. She watched Sava and complied. Tharex began haring about Sava's home and bringing back various items. "Armor, you see? Against tiny invaders! We seal their attack routes!"

He draped an apron across her front and pulled gloves over her hands "So that nothing from one being can touch her skin..." Then a hat, and then, as though she were a mannequin, he pulled her goggles up onto her face and mostly over her eyes – beginning to understand, she made no objections. And for the openings of the nose and mouth and ears, a scarf! He quickly bound one of Milay's best dress scarves over the front of her face instead of just her ears.

Sava caught on quickly as well. "Yes! That would work...but...Wait – let me get something." He trotted into his study and returned with a stoppered bottle. Removing the scarf he soaked it with the liquid and quickly tied it over Anakee's face again. She wheezed and coughed.

"Horrid! What _is_ that!"

"A chemical that kills cells. I have yet to be able to find a way to make it kill just the little blue devils and not everything else. But like this, it would only kill those invaders attempting to gain access to your body through the nose and mouth!"

"Too strong!" she coughed again.

"Yes, well, I may have overdone it. Sorry."

Milay was watching the entire proceeding with interest. "Proper fools we will look attempting to care for the sick looking like some of the creatures from your stories, Tharex."

Angry, Tharex exclaimed, "Dammit, woman, who _cares _what you look like as long as you _live!?_" and caught himself an instant later. "I am terribly sorry, Milay. I did not mean to..."

She laid her hand on his arm. "Tharex, dear friend, I cannot be upset with you for being concerned. But please, calm yourself." She studied Anakee. "These are all too heavy for doing work. We would quickly sweat out all our water and cause an imbalance." She thought for a few moments. "Anakee, would you help me for a little bit, please? Gentlemen, we shall return shortly."

The other woman nodded and they left together to go to Milay's sitting room.

Four hours later they returned to find Tharex and Sava still arguing heatedly over what to do – until the moment they walked through the door into Sava's study. The women were wearing light-weight long gowns, lined with a silk-like fabric and covering their entire bodies and tails, much to Anakee's disgust. Gloves of the same material and a scarf covering the head with each wearing a set of Anakee's goggles. Each woman was wearing one of Milay's best scarves, quickly modified to easily cover the nose and mouth. It was clear that Sava's wife had sacrificed several of the best items in her wardrobe.

They looked...mysterious. Alien. Like ancient warriors against some unknown foe. Anakee had belted her gown in at the waist with her usual accoutrements while Milay managed to make the entire ensemble look elegant despite the goggles.

Sava nodded in satisfaction. "Yes. Brilliant Tharex. We soak the face-scarf and the gloves in the chemical - " seeing Anakee start to object, even under her new armor he amended himself, "But not so strongly! And they are safe! They can touch any sick person! Go anywhere! You could even return home at night! We soak the armor in the front hallway and then launder it each night! Anakee, you will have to stay with us until this outbreak is ended."

Milay smiled under her mask. "They are easy to make. We can teach the other women how to do so as well." She put her hand on her hip and said with satisfaction, "The Red Death has met its match."


	10. Chapter 9

_**CHAPTER 9**_

"_The miserable have no other medicine but hope."_

_- Friedrich Nietzshe_

_**YORKSHIRE DALES, ENGLAND, EARTH**_

_**DECEMBER 2353**_

The weather was grey and overcast, the wind blowing in fits and starts. Intermittent snow showers made their way across the hills and valleys of the Dales causing bands of darker shadows to fall across the land in the early morning light. Shard felt the wind ruffle his fur, but he didn't care. It was cold, but not nearly as cold as it got sometimes. Especially in February. Sometimes his fur froze if he couldn't find someplace to hide. But when he hid, that meant he didn't eat. Not that he ate much anyway. Especially in winter time.

They were still hunting him. He knew that. The people who wanted his skin – if they caught sight of him, people would shoot. Sometimes they put out traps. And the police. When he and Selenda arrived on Earth, the man there had said that after a week they would look for him, that it was a terrible thing to be on Earth for more than a week without something or other. Something he didn't have. So he kept running. He had spent the first few months trying to find Clara. If he could find her, she would help. She liked him. But he didn't know where she went; not the first idea where to look. And anytime someone caught sight of him they would shoot, or throw things, or shout and chase him. But he was a lot better at running and hiding in the woods than they were.

One time they had loud, howling, barking, smelly animals that they set on him. They chased him for a long time with those, but he finally figured out what to do on the second day. He led the whole lot of them through a long tunnel that the mag-lev train went through. He made it out; Barely. They didn't. Not the men chasing him, and not the animals. After that, he tried to stay as deep in the woods as he could.

But he didn't know what he could _eat_. None of the animals were the same, none of the plants. There were a few things he caught and ate – little things like thevets and really fast little hopping animals with puffy tails and long ears. They were delicious, but hard to catch. The plants were a mystery. He had tried some bright red berries, but they made him horribly sick. He had tried gnawing on some roots and some tree bark, but it didn't taste good and once it made him have to go to the bathroom so often he thought he was going to die. Sometimes he wanted to die.

Then it started to get really cold and it rained or snowed on him a lot of days. And he could hardly ever find anything to eat – that was when he started trying to hide in the out-buildings on the many little farmsteads that dotted the area. They put food out for their animals and sometimes it was food he could eat. If they had one of the smelly animals that had chased him, he would stay away. They would smell him and bark and howl and the people would come out to look for him. Sometimes they had little animals that looked a lot like he did though. They were nice sometimes. They would purr and the people put milk out for them that he would take. And sometimes crunchy food. It was very, very salty, but he could eat it.

Once he had been stuck for a long time with nothing to eat and he had found one of the white, poofy animals with the black faces that the people kept. It was stupid and it was easy to kill and he had stuffed himself until he was sick, then managed to eat enough and keep it down. That had been a huge mistake – Groups of people started hunting him all over that area, including police. He never went back there again. The only good thing about that first winter was that the little biting bugs that got in his fur all died. But they came back every summer.

The second winter he had found the ideal hiding place. The buildings were _old_ and full of hiding places. The people that lived there had several of the little animals that purred, so there was milk and crunchy food and he could take it without anyone noticing. They had the stupid, poofy white creatures too, but there was no way he was touching _those_. There was a space they used for storage though – it had some sort of dried reedy plants in it and there was a space he could fit through that went into another space right over where all the people lived. He was very careful about how he moved, but it was warm, and he had food, and water, and he was dry.

He had actually felt happy that winter. He was _very _careful, but in the evenings, he would steal some food and wrap up in an old coarse blanket he had found in another of the buildings and listen to them all talk below him. He couldn't understand a word, but it sounded lovely. There were always delicious smells coming up and sometimes music and he could pretend that he really lived there. There was a period of about two weeks that was just marvelous. Lots of other people had come to visit and there were all sorts of decorations and boxes and glittery lights and delicious smells and what they threw out! He wished they had that festival every month. There were several different types of meat and vegetables and things he couldn't even name and they were all delicious. Well, one of the meats was much too salty, but he didn't care. He was full for _days_.

He could have stayed there for a long time. But very early that spring they had one of the barking smelly animals come to live with them. Some people had dropped it off. From its size, it was young and had beautiful silky fur with three colors and pretty, semi-floppy ears and a pointy face and a bushy tail. Nose to the ground, it had taken an instant dislike to Shard's scent and begun snuffling all over the place. It made such a wide variety of chuffing, snuffling, whickering sounds it was almost talking. In no time at all it had figured out that Shard was in the roof somewhere and began barking endlessly. Fortunately, the people had ignored it, but Shard wasn't going to take a chance. He disappeared into the woods again as soon as it got dark.

Time tended to run together. One wood was very much the same as another. Rivers were where he got clean, as long as no one was around. That was risky though; too hard to pay attention, so he only did _that_ when he could no longer stand his own smell. Roads were terrifying and crossed at high speed or only in the dark of night. He always had to move carefully, looking to see if they were trying to trap him, making sure that no people were about. But it became a habit. That was just how life was. He ate when he could find food; Sometimes a fish, or a small animal or a bird. Sometimes something he stole from a farmstead at night.

Sometimes he'd get feeling sorry for himself and after making sure that no one could hear him, cry himself to sleep. But more than anything, the loneliness kept growing. The winter he had spent with his pretend family had only made it worse. So far this winter he had tried several different places to do the same thing, with no success. They all either had dogs, or the buildings weren't set up right, or any of a thousand things had been wrong or it just felt too risky.

Just now though, he was watching a little girl playing all by herself on the edge of the woods. She was maybe close to his age; it was hard to tell with humans. They didn't have spots in their fur or anything. The last of his own spots had faded away a year or so ago. His belly fur had lightened up a lot while the rest of him had darkened. The tip of his tail was almost entirely black; He hardly recognized his own reflection now. He just felt...different. Still, something about the little human girl reminded him of Corleen. Maybe it was her smile. She seemed very happy to be out playing, despite the grey, iffy weather. It looked like she had a lot of small spheres and was sort of squirting them out of her hand at each other. But she would giggle and squinch down and then shoot again.

He wished he could talk with her. Maybe she'd want to be friends. Maybe she'd have food. He tested the wind again with his nose, even sticking his tongue out a little bit. He listened closely and let his eyes scan all about; There didn't seem to be anyone any closer than her house, and that was at the far side of the clearing, maybe a quarter kilometer away. And she was right on the edge of the woods. He could run if he had to.

His decision made, he got down on all fours so he'd be harder to see and slunk slowly closer, his bad leg dragging slightly, his tail swishing slowly behind him. It didn't take him long and he was behind her, still listening and smelling. Finally he spoke, barely louder than a whisper, "Pitt'barl't."

Surprised, she spun around, her mouth falling open and her eyes flying wide. What _she_ saw was a very large cat, ears focused on her and golden eyes staring with all the unblinking intensity of any feline. "Oh! Kitty! You surprised me!"

"Kitty" was a word he recognized – it was what the Tellarites had called him. Selenda had said they meant it as an insult, and then a compliment. A sort of nickname. He shook his head slowly, still low to the ground and said, still very quietly, "Shard."

She moved from squatting to sitting cross-legged, and asked, "Is that your name kitty? Are you Shard?"

He caught the question and guessed at the meaning. He raised one hand and touched his chest and said again, "Shard." making the word sound more definitive.

The little girl nodded and did the same saying "Katy Byrd." Then she pointed and said, "Shard."

He smiled, but still ready to run and did the same thing, only in reverse.

She clapped her hands delightedly. Living alone was no fun at all – it would be wonderful to have someone to play with; and a giant talking cat! That was like a fantasy! "Do you really talk?"

Shard cocked his head at her. She asked something, but what? "Ta begripin'p." He shook his head to make the fact that he didn't understand more clear.

Katy looked at the cat. It sure sounded like it was trying to talk, but they were just nonsense sounds. She wanted to make friends with it though. So the easiest way to do that was to give it a treat! She reached into the pocket of her warm jacket and pulled out a snack-bar. "Do you want something to eat, ki...Shard?" She unwrapped it and his face lit up at the scent, ears pricking forward. She offered it to him.

Shard couldn't believe his good luck. He quickly reached for the bar, his long fingers closing around it. She didn't let go for a moment, turning her hand slightly and looking at his fingers. He looked back at her, puzzled.

"You have funny paws, Shard."

Confused, he let go and she used her other hand to take hold of his, turning it palm-up and looking at it. "They're like hands!" She realized she might be being rude and placed the bar in his palm, watching as he took it and quickly – very quickly – devoured it. "Oh!" she realized, "You're _hungry_ aren't you, Shard?"

He cocked his head at her again. All he understood was his name. "Kareen, Katybyrd." he thanked her.

"Oh you DO talk! Wait right here! I'll go get you more to eat!" She put her hand out, palm forward "Stay! Stay!" and smiling she turned and ran back to her distant house.

Shard tried to decide what to do. Her meaning was clear, even if he didn't understand the word. She wanted him to stay here. Was she going to get someone? Her parents maybe? He quickly faded back into the woods, hiding where he could see the little spheres she had left on the cold ground. She'd be back for those, at least.

Fifteen minutes later he saw the little blond girl running back from the house, alone. He waited to be sure it wasn't a trap.

Katy got back to her marbles and looked around for the big cat. It had to be around here somewhere. "Shard?" she called.

After a few moments he slunk back out of the woods on all fours. Low to the ground where he'd be nearly impossible to see for anyone except her.

She broke into a big smile. "I made you a sandwich! It's peanut butter, my favorite. Since you've got hands you can eat that, right?"

Shard sat down, cross-legged and looked up at her, his head cocked to one side. "Ta begripin'p." he said again, looking confused.

She handed him the sandwich, watching him sniff it curiously and then take an exploratory nibble. His face broke into a smile of pure happiness and he took a big bite, his mouth working at the peanut butter, his tongue going in and out and around the sides of his mouth.

Katy giggled and covered her mouth. She sat down in front of him, watching Shard eat the sandwich, just studying her new friend. For his part, Shard was mostly focused on eating the insanely delicious food. When he finished – and finished working all the peanut butter off the roof of his mouth – he burped and again thanked her, "Kareen, Katybyrd!"

She giggled again. "I wish I could understand what you're saying." She pouted for a moment. "Do you want to learn how to play marbles? I bet you could learn that." Without waiting for him to try to talk again she reached down and took his hand and pulled him toward the circle full of little glass spheres. She picked one up and let him see it closely. When he reached for it, she shook her finger and got down close to the ground, the marble tucked between her index finger and thumb and took aim. Then she snicked it across the circle, watching it strike another marble sharply, driving it out of the circle.

She clapped and smiled and picked up the displaced marble and put it next to her. Then she repeated the process until she missed. "Oh. You don't have one." She reached down and picked up a bright green and white swirled marble. "Here! You can have one of mine!" And she handed it to Shard who had been watching her with fascination.

He was trying to decide if she meant for him to try when she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him gently downward. His smile could have lit up the entire area. He carefully got down on his elbows as she had and positioned the marble in his hand, the end of his thumb under the piece of glass. And fired.

The marble soared up in the air and came down on the far side of the circle. Katy laughed and said, "No, hang on here...watch..." She picked it up again and showed him again how to shoot it.

It took him a few tries to get it down, but eventually he was able to shoot the marble with some accuracy. When he finally knocked one out of the circle he raised both hands and cheered his own success. His new friend reached over and petted his head.

Surprised he quickly turned and looked at her, but she just kept petting the fur between his ears. "Your fur is really soft, Shard." She giggled again, "Are you a boy kitty or a girl kitty, anyway? I thought maybe you were an alien, but you don't wear clothes and you don't talk Standard and you don't walk on your back legs, so you must just be a weird kitty."

He just shook his head, not understanding, then reached his own hand up and began to pet her hair.

She laughed again, "Whoever heard of a kitty petting a person!"

From across the field she heard her mother calling her and stood up. "I have to go, Shard. Do you want to come back tomorrow? We can play marbles again!" She stamped her foot. "I wish you understood me." Quickly bending down she picked up her marbles and poured them into a small draw-string bag. She plucked out three and put them in Shard's hand. "Here, you can practice!"

He looked up at her, shocked. This was only the second time in his life someone had given him something to keep. They looked something like a torch-stone. Did that mean she really wanted to be friends? But she was running off across the field towards her house. He suddenly realized that the other person might be able to see him and flattened himself to the ground, vanishing back into the woods.

That evening he took the skin from one of the small thevet-like creatures he had caught and made himself a little bag like she had and dropped his treasures into it, loving the faint clacking sound they made. Then, using the long fibers from one of the plants he had tried to eat one day, he wove together a cord so that he could wear it around his neck and not lose them. He found a fallen log and curled up under it, burrowing into a pile of leaves, his hand clutching the bag of marbles close.

For her part, young Katy Byrd was ecstatic. She ran home and immediately began telling her mother about her new friend. "Mommy! I met the most awesomest kitty _ever_!"

"That's nice, dear. Come inside for supper, and don't forget to take your muddy things off and wash your hands!

"It's really big and like tan and white and it has weird paws like hands and it sort of talks!"

"Yes, dear. A talking cat. That's nice." Her nine year-old daughter was always meeting imaginary friends – the child's creativity was astounding. It was a source of some concern for the single mother, that because of her life-style, her daughter had so few chances for real playmates. But as a writer, she _needed_ the solitude that could be found in the isolated locales she set her stories in. Once she had written an area dry, she'd move on to another, but that took years. Years of interviewing the locals, gathering their legends and folk stories and weaving them into new stories.

Katy had clearly inherited her mother's imagination and bent for telling a good yarn. Last summer she had invented an entire kingdom of talking lizards that had evolved ever more complexity over the months. Just before they had moved, Anne Byrd had met the source of the lizard-people: A fire salamander that Katy had tamed by bribing it with bits of hamburger and hot dogs. The child had no idea the amphibian was poisonous; Anne briefly said a prayer of thanks that _this_ year she had chosen someone's pet cat as the source of her inspiration.

But Katy was continuing while her mother set the table, "And I taught it to play marbles and its fur is so _soft_!"

"Well most kitties have soft fur. Um, is it a boy kitty or a girl?"

"I don't know. I think its a boy kitty. But he doesn't really talk very well."

"Well he _is_ just a kitty, dear. Most of them don't talk very well."

"Yeah, I guess so." she tucked into her meal, sharing the rest of the details of her day, with a few enhancements thrown in here and there to make certain that her mother was paying attention.

The next morning Katy was raring to head out the door and her mother asked her what the hurry was. "I'm going to play marbles with Shard!"

"Shard?"

"The kitty!"

"Oh, of course, Have fun dear, don't forget to stop to eat lunch." One of the nice things about the house she was renting was that Katy could play safely all day long and she could get some serious work done without worry. She would probably make the short trek into Reeth and collect some folklore for a few hours. Katy would be fine for such a short time. She shouted out the door, "Katy! I'm going in to town to do some research! I'll be back after lunch, stay safe, okay?"

"Yes mom!" came the rapid reply from her vanishing daughter.

Anne Byrd was well into her third interview when she first heard about the 'ghost cat' of the Dales. The old farmer was regaling her with the stories of how a giant lynx had slaughtered some of his sheep and then vanished into a mist when he shot it with his old shotgun. One of the other oldsters in the pub that morning chimed in with a story about the horrible wailing cry that it could make – proof that it wasn't a _living _cat, but the raised spirit of a young local woman who's lover had died in space and who drowned herself in the river in grief.

Everyone chimed in with stories of livestock being killed, items being stolen, of dogs being bewitched and confused and the impossibility of ever catching it. She was assured that she could go into any village in the Dales and hear the same true tale – the creature had been plaguing the farmers for years and all manner of ill was ascribed to it. Clearly it was sent by the devil to punish the righteous. Except when it was the ghost of a young woman. And it was the size of a large dog. Or a small horse. Or it could change size. Inevitably, the variations on the tale sparked a spirited debate.

Anne treated every tale as the absolute truth. She'd spend the next few months visiting all the local pubs; She'd get as many different folk tales as possible, of course, but – probably since her daughter had chosen to invent a cat-friend – this one was sparking her interest. The idea of a young suicide being sent back to the land of the living, filled with regret and loss, had potential.

Shard was ecstatic. He might not have a real house, but he had made a fairly comfortable burrow and lined it with leaves. The entrance was concealed behind a bush and under an old rotted log. It was warm enough and kept him dry. And Katy always brought him a sandwich when she came out to play. Sometimes she'd bring other treats. Once a bottle of something orange and bubbly and more delicious than anything he had ever tasted. This was his second winter that had been _happy_. He had even gotten fairly good at marbles.

And she seemed to love petting him between his ears. Not that he minded – it felt nice, it made him feel like he had a real friend, and sometimes he would purr, which inevitably got a squeal from Katy. He wished he could purr when _he _wanted to; He loved hearing her laugh. In the past few days they had gotten a few words down between them as well. Marble, sandwich, fizzy, and hello he was very sure of.

She had also discovered that Shard was ticklish. Sometimes, she would resort to tickling to throw off his aim when he was managing to win at marbles. Which is what he was doing at the moment.

Katy waited for him to really focus on his shot, and then reached over and tickled his protruding ribs, making him jump. Deciding to really make him pay for knocking out her favorite marble, she pounced on him, tickling fiercely and giggling.

Kicking at the air, Shard was laughing and trying to tickle back, getting the occasional shriek from his friend when he found a ticklish spot.

Anne's ears perked up when she heard a high-pitched scream that sounded like her daughter. She was irritated, for a moment, at the interruption and then stood up and quickly went to the back door to see what was going on. There shouldn't be anyone out here. There was another high pitched squeal and she craned her neck to see what was going on. What she saw made her blood run cold. At the far side of their parcel, her daughter was tangled up with a lion of some sort – it was huge and had her caught up in its paws, making her scream in terror.

Anne screamed at the animal and ran as fast as she could, hoping to frighten it away from her child before it got its teeth into her. It happened fast – she was sprinting, covering the 200 meters to the pair and screaming and the animal leapt up with a hissing yowl, turned away from Katy and took off into the woods, one leg clearly not working all that well. She had heard that sometimes old or lame animals would prey on humans, finding them easier than their normal food, she just never expected to encounter such a thing in the middle of a civilized country! How did they even _have_ lions running around loose in _England_?!

Reaching her daughter, Anne scooped her up and began to run back to her house to call the police. Or Animal control. Or someone! Katy was yelling something but she didn't have time to listen – they had to get indoors!

Finally reaching the safety of their little cottage, Anne slammed the door shut, leaning against it, her heart racing, trying to get her breath back and check over little Katy all at the same time. "Are you hurt baby? Did it bite you? Did it claw you? Do we need to go to hospital?"

"Mooom! That was _Shard_! You scared him!"

"Oh my _god _baby. That was a _lion_! It could have _killed _you!"

"It's just Shard, mom, we were playing marbles and then..."

"Baby, this isn't the time for your stories. You stay right here, I have to call the police." Ignoring Katy's continued attempts to explain that it was 'just Shard', she called the local constable, who promised to be there first thing in the morning to deal with the animal.

For his part, Shard was terrified. He had gotten careless – gotten to believe that he was safe, that he could have a friend, have someplace to be, and it had nearly gotten him caught. He would have to run away again, find someplace far from here. Someplace that had food, too.

He curled up in his little den and did something he hadn't done for some time – cried himself to sleep. When he woke up a couple hours later, the sun was setting and the temperature was dropping. He realized that he had left his marbles behind when he ran. He had to get those at least. The person who had grabbed Katy had run away, not after him. He had seen that. He should be safe to go back and get them at least. That should be OK.

When he slunk out of the woods, every sense searching for a trap or anything other than normal woodland items, it was nearly dark. With his coloration, he was nearly invisible and all the marbles were where they had left them when the tickle fight started. He collected his three and quickly returned to the safety of the wood. But instead of running, he returned to his den.

He spent most of the night arguing with himself. He _knew _he should leave. But he finally had a friend; she even shared her food. Would they come look for him again? It had been a few months since anyone had shot at him or come to try to track him. Maybe nobody cared any more. Maybe that was Katy's mother and Katy would tell her that he was her friend. Maybe he could stay _there_. Clara would have let him stay with her, he was sure of it. Maybe Katy's mom would. Katy would tell her he was her friend, he knew it. Then she'd see he wasn't bad.

He fell asleep wrestling with his hopes and fears, but more than anything trying to find a way to escape from the aching loneliness that yawned in front of him again. Dosadi are far more social than humans – Sharden didn't know it, but he had developed a mental toughness that was far beyond his age. An adult Dosadi, forced to endure years of solitude would almost certainly die, or go insane... But Shard was hanging on by his claws, and part of him knew it.

The next morning, it was an ultra-cautious Shard who made his very slow way back to the edge of the wood. He had finally decided that he would at least see if Katy was even there. If she was, that would probably mean that everything was OK. That he didn't have to leave. He crept to where he could see Katy's marble-ring; Evidently she hadn't been back at all. He sighed and lowered himself down onto his belly, chin resting on his hands and tried to decide where to go next.

Inside the little cottage, Katy was seeking reassurance from her mother and the big man in the coveralls. "You _promise_ you're not going to hurt him?"

Carol knelt down, "Yes, honey, Constable Sully isn't going to hurt the lion. He just wants to make sure that you stay safe. We'll all go out to where you were playing and see if the lion's come back yet is all."

Constable William Sully checked to make sure his phaser was out of sight, tucked into a back pocket on the coveralls. There was no way he was going to mess up his uniform just for some escaped circus animal. He didn't get to wear the uniform all that much anyway. Constable was a part-time job at best. He had a jail, but usually the only time it got used was when some of the lads had a few too many pints on a weekend, or someone needed some cooling off time from a football match. Most of his time was spent as the village grocer, if such a small shop could be glorified with that much title. "Sure, lass, I just want to see the lion. I bet he's just bonny!"

Suspicious, but generally obedient Katy led the way out the back door, the adults following a short way behind, into another grey Yorkshire morning.

Shard's ears pricked up long before he could see anything – he could hear three sets of footsteps – and he silently faded backwards into the brush. Before long he saw Katy, a smile on her face, and then a few yards behind her the lady who had scared him yesterday and a large man he had never seen before. He looked a little plump and most of the fur on his head was gone, leaving a sort of fringe on the sides and some longer bits that were raked across the top.

Katy came up to the ring she had scratched in the hard ground and began collecting her marbles. Shard wrapped his fingers around the little bag at his throat and looked at the adult humans again. They were looking about, but didn't seem threatening. And Katy was chattering away; He heard his name at least once. The adults were talking to her as well – everyone sounded calm. He didn't smell anything that seemed off. There weren't any of the smelly barking animals. There weren't any guns either.

He thought he understood – Katy's mother had been afraid of him for some reason. But Katy told her he wasn't bad and now she had brought her parents out to meet him. Everyone was smiling; Well, the man was sort of squinting at the woods. That had to be it. Maybe it would work out – maybe they'd like him.

Staying low to the ground so that he could run if he had to and moving slowly so that he wouldn't scare anyone, Shard slunk out of the brush and into view, his tail twitching nervously, every sense alert.

Katy saw him immediately and started to go towards him calling out 'Shard!'

The adults caught sight of him a moment later. Anne warned her daughter, "Katy! Don't go any closer!" but the girl was hurrying to her friend.

Constable Sully decided now was his best chance. His hand darted into his back pocket and came out with his police-issue phaser. He had taken the precaution of setting it to heavy stun – you never knew with wild animals. He was glad of that now since the lion looked like it was half-starved and was clearly ready to pounce on the child.

Shard raised his head and smiled, then saw the man fumbling for something and his ears flipped backwards and his eyes dilated. He crouched down, ready to do a 180 and disappear.

Katy saw Shard's expression change, turned and saw Constable Sully starting to aim his phaser at Shard and screamed "NO! YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T..." and stepped in front of Shard just as the man fired.

Shard snapped. He saw the thick green beam envelope his friend and he went from flight-instinct to fight in an instant. Already crouched and ready to jump away, he instead attacked the Constable, going for a kill, all claws and teeth.

Anne screamed, seeing the lion attack the Constable and her daughter collapsed on the ground. The Constable screamed as well, having what amounted to an enraged 70 pound cougar trying to rip his throat out. With no time to fire his phaser again he began clubbing the heavy casing against Shard's skull with all the strength that fear could provide. He continued pounding on the boy's head and body long after he was lying flat on the ground, unconscious.

Anne Byrd finally stopped him "It's dead. Stop! Help my daughter! Why did you shoot her!?"

Sully got shakily from his knees to his feet, holding his hand to the bloody slashes across his neck and face. "I'm going to turn that sodding thing into a rug for that!" He went to the girl's prone form and said, "I didn't mean to shoot the lass, she jumped in the way! You saw it!"

He took out a small hypo of stimulant from his Constable's kit and administered it. Lightly slapping the girl's cheeks, he called her name, "Katy! Wakey wakey little girl. You're okay. Ah, there we go. Welcome back, lass! You'll feel a little groggy and confused for a while, but you'll be fine."

She sat up and saw Shard's bloody body lying in the freezing mud. "SHARD! You _killed _him!" she wobbled her way over to him and tried to pet the bloody fur between his ears, but her mother snatched her up.

"He had to, Katy, the lion attacked him. See all the blood all over his face and throat? It tried to _eat_ him right in front of me!"

In tears she argued, "No, no, no, no, no he wouldn't do that! You made him do that! He was my _friend!_"

Patting her sobbing daughter's back she turned to Sully, "You'll be OK, won't you Constable? You can take care of...that?"

Still holding his hand to his bleeding neck and trying to flip the long strands of hair back over the top of his head he answered, with all the swagger of little men in big bodies everywhere, "Oh yes. I've had lots worse than this." He grinned savagely, "And I'll get a nice new rug out of the whole thing anyway. Sorry to have scared the little girl, mum." He waited a few moments for the woman to head back towards their cottage and then kicked Shard's body again.

He bent down and used a pair of cheap flex-cuffs on his feet and then did the same with his hands. "What the...?" he studied the long fingers. "You some sort of mutant, then? No wonder you were starving." He looked him over again. It didn't look like any sort of alien he was familiar with. Besides, they all walked upright and wore clothes like any person. And they didn't try to eat you. He shrugged and then hoisted the dead weight onto his shoulders, grunting with the effort.

Ten minutes later he dumped Shard into the boot on his official vehicle. He was trying to decide if he would take him to the butcher first or the taxidermist. He took hold of one ear and turned the head back and forth. "You might look good on the wall in my office down at the station house."

Shard groaned, a faint sound. Sully hoisted his head up further. "You still alive? Bloody hell!" Then he smiled. William Sully was, unfortunately, one of the sorts of people the police forces of the world try to keep out. A bully and a sadist at heart, he would sometimes find a squirrel or rabbit and do unspeakable things to it, just because he could; As an exercise in power. It was one of the reasons he loved being able to lock up the drunks. He couldn't _do_ anything to them beyond a few taps with the electric shock-baton, but he could show them who was boss.

Normally, a psych-profile would have detected Sully's abnormality and treated it, but he was a very capable actor despite his low IQ and there was little money for such things in northern Yorkshire. He was well known and behaved respectably; a pillar of the community. He was quite careful about his entertainments.

Dropping Shard's head he decided he was going to have some serious fun with this lion for marking him up like it had. There was no one in the jail, and the concrete floors were easy to clean. He shut the boot lid and drove to the station, parking in the back. He wrapped duct-tape around Shard's nose and mouth and again slung him across his shoulders. It was a short walk to the few cells in the small station and he simply dumped Shard into one, letting him fall on the concrete floor.

It was almost ten hours later when Shard's eyes fluttered open. He hurt all over, but especially his head. His vision was blurry and he had no idea where he was at, or why. He was cold and after a few moments realized he couldn't open his mouth or move his hands or feet. He lay there for a little while trying to remember what had happened. There was a very foggy memory of someone killing Katy when they tried to shoot him, but after that...nothing.

They must have caught him. He started to cry, and then started choking from the mucus in his nose – with his mouth taped shut it was very hard to breathe. He struggled for a little bit, but it only made things worse. Suddenly, a stream of icy water sprayed over him – there wasn't anything he could do, but he thrashed as much as he could. Finally the hose stopped and he snuffled some, trying to get his breath back.

Sully grinned. "Well, all awake are we?"

Shard heard a voice and squirmed himself around until he could see the speaker. It was the same man who had killed Katy. He could see that he was on a hard concrete floor and in a cage. There was a question, but he didn't know what it was; not that he could answer anyway; It was all he could do to not pass out, struggling to breathe through his runny nose.

"You're going to pay for scratching me, lion. Took Doc Hunter half an hour to close them all up. "I think I'll let you get a good night's sleep before we start that little bit of payback though. Don't want you getting out of it before you've paid that bill in full." He unlocked the cage door and stepped in, holding a bowl with something in it. He set the bowl on the ground – it looked like some sort of meat pate' and it smelled heavenly to the starving boy. He'd been hungrier before, a lot hungrier, but that didn't change the growling in his belly right now.

Sully hefted the shock baton into his left hand and flipped open his knife. Shard's eyes got wide and he tried to squirm away. Instead of slitting his throat though, the big man jabbed him with the baton, causing him to spasm and be unable to move for a minute or two. In that time, he had cut both plastic flex-cuffs and left the cell.

Finally, the boy sat up and began to peel the duct tape from his face, gasping in deep lung-fulls of air and then throwing up almost immediately from vertigo. It was only after he'd finished that he saw the drain in the middle of the floor; he wished he had seen that before he vomited all over the floor. He took some stock of where he was at.

It was a small cage, about two meters by three. There was nothing else. Just the drain in the floor, a single solid wall, and the bowl the big man had left. When his head had started to throb somewhat less, he slid himself over to the bowl and ate it all; After so many years living on whatever he could find, this was ambrosial. He neither knew, nor cared, that it was cat food.

After having a bit of time to sit and think, and to study the few details of his cage, he noted that there were two outlines on the one wall. One a big rectangle, the other a sort of oblong rounded rectangle pointed up. In the upper left hand corner of each outline was a small handprint. With nothing else to do with his time, he pressed his hand to the one in the big rectangle, quickly scooting backwards on the floor as a bunk slowly folded down out of the wall. Afraid that pulling that down would get him in even more trouble, he tried to lift it up, finally finding that a gentle pressure on the same hand-print would cause it to slowly retract into the wall.

Checking to be sure that no one was around, he tried the other hand-print and found a small toilet and sink folded out. Deciding that he would get in more trouble if he didn't use that than if he did, and with the Dosadi's instinctually fastidious toilet habits, he made use of both before folding them back into the wall.

Shard never understood any of it. For days the man would come by Shard's cage every evening. He would slide a bowl of the food under the bars; sometimes staying to watch him eat, sometimes not. But always he would shock him with the baton. Sometimes once, sometimes many times. He always talked, but Shard never understood a word. It seemed to make it worse if he stayed silent, and even worse if he tried to talk back to the man. Usually if he screamed, he'd only shock him once or twice. He seemed to like that a lot. He liked to beat him too, usually just with his hands and feet, but sometimes with a stick.

Over the next few weeks, sometimes the man would come in with another man; almost always stinking of alcohol and with their hands bound. Sometimes the big man would zap them too. But they always left sometime the next morning. Sometimes Shard would get sprayed with the hose. One evening, the man spent an hour shooting Shard with little metal balls fired from some sort of gun. All he could do was curl into a ball and scream when he was hit, so that's what he did. But he seemed to tire of that sport, and he came into the cage and kicked and punched Shard until he passed out.

When he came to, it was daylight again. Shard wondered why the man didn't just kill him and be done with it? He was going to skin the boy anyway. What was the point? What was the point to anything, he decided, laying his head onto his knees and crying. He just wanted it to stop. What had he ever done to _anyone _to deserve the life he had? He vaguely remembered other kits on Dosad. They had families and food and people to hold them and friends and nothing bad ever happened to them. He wasn't evil, he didn't do bad things, he wasn't mean, _why_ did everything awful always happen to him? Would the whole universe explode if just _once_ something nice happened?

Doctor Josef Hunter was in a bit of a hurry. His wife was feeling down today – for good reason. It had become apparent that the latest attempt to overcome their fertility problems had been a failure and that was really a crushing blow to her, and to their plans for a family. They were both a bit of an anachronism. She was a psychologist specializing in education and he was one of the increasingly rare general practitioners. Rather than setting up shop at university or hospital or one of the many outstanding clinic facilities scattered about the galaxy, they had both come home to practice. They were High School sweethearts and they had both decided long ago that the Dales were where they wanted to raise their family, and to provide care for their neighbors as well. They had taken a break from their active-duty Starfleet careers to try for a child before returning to duty for a few years; Then, when their child was school-age, it would be back to home for good.

So here, deep in the 24th Century, he was making house-calls like an old-time country doctor while his wife made the rounds from school to school and tutored besides, working more as a teacher than as a pure psychologist. And like an old-time country doctor, or itinerant teacher, they were highly valued by their community. Compensation wasn't quite the same and the little villages of the Dales lacked the amenities and cultural attractions of the big cities, but with modern transport, those were all reasonably close. And the cities couldn't offer the sights, sounds, or scents of Yorkshire, nor the sense of timeless community such a place had.

Besides, the both of them held Reserve commissions in Starfleet as Lieutenants (Junior Grade), so they got their share of high adventure every now and again. Well, often the monthly drills constituted little more than conducting a complete health screening for the smaller ships of the Fleet, but even that could be considered high adventure compared to dealing with yet another case of infant diarrhea, or croup.

Today's house-call was definitely _not_ high adventure. One of the local lads had gotten a bit cut up during a bawl over the latest Sheffield football match. Hunter had planned on fixing a light lunch for his wife, Carol, and then taking her on a short trip to London; But, duty called. This shouldn't take long though – a few swipes with the wound sealer, a touch or two from the protoplaser, an anti-inflammatory and anti-infective from the hypo-spray and he'd be on his way in two jiff's.

It was on his way out that he heard the snuffling, sobbing sound. That wasn't entirely usual in his experience. "What's that?" he asked Constable Sully.

"Nothing. Let's get you on your way, Doc."

That was even more unusual. Sully usually liked to brag about who he had managed to get locked up. "Is that a lady you've tossed in durance vile?" he teased and turned to walk to the cell in question.

Sully put his hand on the doctor's arm. "Nae, 'tis nothing. Don't want you to waste your time. Just feeling sorry for themselves is all."

Hunter ignored the hand and drove on. Something was up. The voice didn't sound right at all. When he caught sight of the source of the sound, he stopped dead in his tracks, shocked into silence.

Sully again attempted to get him to leave. "See? Just some wild animal I caught a while back. Going to have a nice rug out of it."

"Wild animal? Is this that lion that gave you all those cuts last month?" He moved even closer – wild animals didn't cry, and unless he missed his guess, this little 'lion' was sobbing it's heart out.

"Yeah, Come along, Doctor. No reason to waste your time on it."

"I don't think that's a lion, Constable." He couldn't see it well. It was curled into a little ball; It was marked like...well, something like a North American cougar. What would that be doing in Yorkshire? Escaped from a zoo? Something about it was nagging at him.

"Sure it is. Doctor, I'm going to have to insist you leave now." He drew himself up to his full height – a good 3" taller than Hunter - "You're interfering with police operations now."

"I need to examine whatever that is, Constable."

Sully firmly turned Hunter around and began chivvying him out of the jail. "No, you don't. You're not a veterinarian, Doc. That's none of your concern. I'll be skinning it shortly anyway, so even less of a worry for you. Unless you want some of the meat?"

Finally, nearly shoved out the door of the little police post, Hunter's mind clicked the pieces into place. That wasn't an animal – it was a felinoid alien. "Constable, I insist you let me back in there to examine that prisoner. That is not some 'lion', that is a sentient being."

Sully laughed, loudly. "Oh Doc, you're a right card, you are. I know a lion when I see one." And he slammed the door in Hunter's face.

Hunter turned and started to head back to his APV. He should probably file a report with someone about that. Why wasn't it wearing any clothing? Did it's embassy know it was there? He slid into the vehicle and started it up, beginning to plan out the trip to London with his wife.

But he couldn't let it go. Why did Sully keep it there? If that was what had cut him up last month that meant he'd had it in that cell for that long. And if it truly was a sentient, no one knew anything about it. What was it he had said? "_I'll be skinning it shortly anyway_." Oh god, he was going to murder it.

He quickly tapped the buttons on the communicator built into his APV, "This is Lieutenant Josef Hunter, Starfleet Reserve, I have an urgent need for a security detail at..."

Sully laughed at Shard again, enjoying the crying for a few minutes. "Well, lion. Looks like you're a cowardly lion after all. You'll still make a good rug though." He hefted the heavy, lead-filled billy club and opened the cage, stepping inside. "I'll make it quick for you, just because I'm a good sort."

The intent was plain, even if Shard didn't understand the words. He tried to stop the tears as he looked up at his killer. He was less than nothing. No one knew anything, he had no stories that would be told, no one to remember him. Just...nothing. He lowered his head again, putting his chin on his knees and closing his eyes. He hoped it wouldn't hurt. He was so tired of being hurt.

Sully raised the club and took careful aim at the back of Shard's skull – didn't want to ruin the trophy.

"DROP IT!" came a woman's loud voice from the hallway, followed immediately by a deeper male voice, "STARFLEET SECURITY!"

Panicked, he spun around to try to get rid of the evidence the only way he knew how. An instant later he was covered in the bright green glow of two phaser impacts on heavy stun and he fell, unconscious, in front of Shard.

Shard heard the shouts, then the phaser fire and the heavy thud of a body landing right in front of him and opened his eyes. Seconds later, a man and a woman in gold and black uniforms came charging in, and dragged the big man away. Completely uncomprehending, Shard saw another human come into his cage. This one was almost two meters tall, thin, and had dark hair and eyes and a kindly smile. But uniforms meant police. They must have shot the other police man because he wasn't supposed to kill him yet. Shard just said, "Onsk sloot l'junt't. L'fest'alt nago." He didn't even raise his head off his knees.

Doctor Hunter kneeled down in front of Shard, speaking soothingly while he opened up his kit. "Hey there, it'll be all right. Let me just get a look at what you _are_..." He lifted a medi-scanner and Shard cringed back into the corner as far as he could.

"Onsk sloot l'junt't. L'fest'alt nago!"

After a few seconds, the whistling device gave him the first answer he sought. "Ooohhh! You're a _Dosadi!_" he nodded to himself.

"Onsk sloot l'junt't." Shard muttered again, trying to get even smaller.

"Here, let's fix the first problem..." he took out a small earpiece and inserted it into his own ear, then moved closer to Shard, who trembling, tried again to force himself further into the corner.

"Please stop hurting me. Please."

"Shhh... Here..." The device wasn't designed for a felinoid ear, but Hunter managed to get it clipped on and arranged so that it could scan Shard's brain as well as be heard.

"Please. I didn't do anything."

"It's okay. No one will hurt you any more. You're safe now. Can you understand me now?"

Disbelieving, Shard looked up – it was the first sentence he had understood since Selenda had died. He nodded his head, eyes wide, ears backwards.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to scan you to see what's hurt, all right? Can I do that?"

Shard tried to scoot backwards again, shaking his head.

"Here, look, it won't hurt...I'll show you." He called to one of the officers with him, "Ensign Wilson, come here, slowly. Crouch down facing _away_ from...the patient." The woman came closer and then knelt down, facing Hunter. "Watch..." He scanned her with the medical device. "See? May I do that?"

Slowly, eyes wide, Shard nodded.

While he scanned the alien, Hunter tried to get more information. "What's your name?" He noted that the scanner was indicating it was male and had a large number of breaks, massive contusions, internal injuries, lots of small burn marks about an inch apart, a concussion, malnutrition, and several parasitic infestations.

"Shard."

"How old are you, Shard?"

"I don't know. Ten, I think."

"Do you live near here? Where are your parents?"

"I don't live anywhere. I don't have anyone. Everyone died. All of them."

Hunter badly wanted to take a DNA sample so that he could run it through Starfleet and Federation records and see when this boy had arrived on earth, but now wasn't the time.

Shard looked at the man more closely. "Are you going to skin me now?"

"What?! No! Of course not! No one's going to skin you." He thought to himself, _'How in the hell did he know Sully was going to skin him? God, what did that man _do_ to this poor kid?"_

"Oh."

From the outer office Hunter heard the other Security ensign exclaim, "Oh _gross_!"

The doctor shouted back, "What's wrong? What did you find?"

There was a bit of a laugh and the man walked back in. "Just this." He held aloft a small furry bag with some small round lumps within it.

"Oh C_hrist!_" Hunter said, appalled.

"What the _hell_?!" The woman's eyes got very round.

Shard cried out "Those are _mine!_" and then immediately cringed back into himself.

Hunter's mouth fell open. That was horrible beyond words.

The Security man laughed, "That's what I thought too, sir – but look." He shook out three marbles into his palm and laughed again.

Shard had no idea why all three of them were laughing. "They're mine. I didn't steal them. She gave them to me. I promise."

Hunter smiled at him, "Of course they're yours. Ensign, give Shard back his marbles."

The boy was surprised, but reached up and hesitantly took them back from the other human, then quickly slung it back around his neck.

The doctor looked at the boy again. He didn't know very much about Dosadi, but he looked very stunted, and his language wasn't all that developed at all. He needed medical and psychological care and should be in hospital.

The male ensign reached down and said, "Let's get you out of this..."

Shard cringed away from him, heading towards the only safety he could find, cowering behind Hunter's side. "Please don't hurt me!"

Hunter instinctively reached down and put his hand on the boy's back. "Hey, no one's going to hurt you any more. I won't let anyone hurt you. These are friends. They won't hurt you. They helped rescue you. I promise."

Not quite believing in good luck any more, Shard stayed hidden behind Hunter's legs as much as he could.

The doctor patted his back gently, noting the cringing response. He turned his head to the two security officers, "Hey, give us a minute, okay? Get the Constable secured. There'll have to be an investigation, so take him into custody and get someone down here to take over the job until his status is determined."

Both ensigns returned to the outer office and Hunter spent the next few minutes trying to calm the boy and convince him that he meant no harm. "Shard, if you'll let me take you to hospital, we can get all those wounds fixed up and get you cleaned up and get some food in you. How about it?"

"Just let me go, please. I didn't do anything. I really didn't. I promise."

Hunter sat down on his rump, crossing his legs. "Shard, what would you do? Go back to running around in the Dales pretending to be a lion?"

"I didn't. I really didn't. I just wanted to be friends and sometimes I'd steal a little food or hide in the straw, I really didn't do anything."

"No one is accusing you of anything, Shard, but you can't live like that. Look at you. How long have you been living in the Dales like this?"

"I don't know. This is my fourth winter, I think."

"Jesus! You've been..." he looked at the boy and let his medical tri-corder work for a few moments, Shard watching him closely. "This does put you at about ten years old, Shard. But this also has you about 20 pounds under weight for your age, and you're just beat to hell. Do you really just want to go live like that again?"

Very quietly, Shard answered, "No."

Hunter tried to think about what to do. If he took Shard to hospital, he'd get immediate treatment, but he'd also become part of the system. There were, as always, cracks in the system. Cracks that this kid seemed to specialize in falling through, if his guesses were correct. He wasn't in any _immediate_ danger. Maybe the thing to do would be to treat the boy himself. Carol could talk with him and treat the mental wounds, and he could fix the physical injuries while they ran inquiries and found out where he belonged.

Still sitting next to the lad and gently rubbing his back, Doctor Hunter asked him, "Well, how about this, would you like to stay with my wife and me for a few days? I can heal up all these breaks and we can get some food in you and then you can decide what to do after that."

Shard thought about that for a few moments. It sounded _much _too good to be true. But they had stopped the other man from killing him. The door to the cage was still open. He hadn't done anything to him yet. All he was doing was sort of resting his hand on him. "You'd really let me go when I want to?"

Mentally crossing his fingers and sincerely hoping that wouldn't come to pass, Hunter agreed. "Yes. If you want to. But I hope you'd want to stay. My wife and I don't have any children and we've wanted some for a long time. You could try us out and tell us if we'd be good parents or not." Shard's head came up at that, his nose twitching.

"Would you lock me up there?"

He laughed – a far different sound from Sully's. "No Shard, it would be your home for a while. Let's do this, lad. Come and see what you think. Just long enough for my wife and me to get you fixed up and cleaned up and if you decide it's not for you, off you go. No hard feelings."

Shard thought about it for a moment. Could it really be true? So many times now he thought he had someplace to be, someplace that could sort of be home and it _always_ fell apart. But it had to be better than being out in the woods again, or being in a cage. It didn't make sense for it to be a trick. They already had him. They could do whatever they wanted.

Hunter watched the boy's eyes darting left and right as he tried to think it through. "Let's make a deal, Shard, okay? You promise to stay with me and my wife until we've healed you up and you've put on at _least_ fifteen pounds. And I promise that if you don't want to stay after that, I'll take you wherever you want to go. Agreed?" He held his hand out to the boy.

Shard just stared at it.

Hunter chuckled. _"Silly to think a Dosadi would know a handshake."_ he thought to himself, and then explained it to Shard. "It's a human custom. When you make an agreement or a bargain, you shake hands to show that you agree and that you'll be bound by it. That you'll keep your word. You just put your hand out the same way, we grip each other's hand and shake our joined hands up and down a couple times. But only _if_ you agree."

To a Dosadi, their word meant more than their life; Honor was beyond price. If they agreed to something, they would die before they broke that agreement. Shard realized he was being offered another cage, of a sort; This one barred by his own sense of honor. What if he was horrible? If he did things like the other man?"

The doctor seemed to understand his hesitation. "And also I promise to take _good_ care of you, Shard, To not let anyone hurt you any more."

The boy decided to take a chance; It could hardly be worse. He took hold of Hunter's hand, and after a moment to figure out how to grip it, shook their hands up and down and said, "Ka r'taa svor stol".

Hunter tapped his ear-piece a couple times. "I"m sorry – that didn't translate. Can you say that again?"

"I said you have my oath of honor. It means OK."

"Then let's get you out of here, Shard." He stood up. "Let's get you home."

When he got Shard down to the APV, leaving the two Security officers to settle out the mess in the Police post, he realized he had another call to make. Punching the buttons on his comm system, he glanced at Shard and opened the call. "Hi honey! I'm heading home here shortly. Bit of a dog's breakfast over here at the post. Um. I probably should have talked to you first but..."

Her voice came over the comm clearly, "Josef, you are _not_ bringing home another drunk football mate to sleep it off!"

He laughed, "No, no I'm not. I'm not really sure how to explain. It's a little boy – a Dosadi. He's had a very rough time of it, no family, lost in the woods, that sort of thing."

"A what? What do you mean a little boy?"

"Dosadi. Felinoid. Look it up." he glanced at Shard again. The boy seemed listless, as though he had no real interest in where he was going. "Listen, hon, this is a tough case. He needs us. Badly."

There was a very long pause. "Is this a patient, Josef?"

"Yah."

Her sigh was clearly audible. "What time will you be home, Josef?"

"I'm just going to stop off at..." he cleared his throat. "The pet store. I want to get something, just in case."

Shard held his new necklace in his hands. He couldn't read the characters engraved on the red oblong disc, but it was pretty, and the thin tritanium chain mean that his marbles would stay safe too. "What does it say?" he asked.

"Just in case something happens Shard, it tells people who you are and where you belong. It says "My name is Shard. I am a Dosadi. I live at 2230 Back Lane, Reeth, Yorkshire Dales" That way Shard, no matter what, nothing like this can ever happen again. Don't be afraid of people; just show them that tag and they'll know who you are and where you belong."

He turned the disc over in his hands a couple times. "Belong."

Smiling, Hunter decided to try a little tease, "Well, let's see how Carol takes to me bringing you home. We may both be in the dog house!"

"I don't like dogs." Shard's ears flipped back. "They chase me."

"Sorry, Shard, I was making a joke; It's an old phrase that mean's you're in trouble with your wife. Here, let's get home and you can meet each other and we can get started making you feel better."

Half an hour later, the APV back in it's storage space, Hunter and Shard walked the last bit to their home. Shard was wobbly, but proud enough to want to do it on his own. Josef Hunter swallowed hard and opened his front door. "Hey, love, we're home!" he called out.

Carol Hunter came out of the study, a book in her hand and looked at her husband and their house guest. She studied the felinoid for a few moments; He was obviously starved, sick, and nervous. He met her eyes very briefly then looked straight down at the floor, his ears and tail drooping. He was also obviously a child.

"Welcome home Josef." She crouched down, smiling, "And who are you?" There was no answer so she coaxed again, "I'm Carol. Will you tell me your name?"

Shyly, Shard looked up again, briefly and said, "Shard." She reminded him a little of Clara.

Carol studied the little boy. She had done a fast study of Dosadi in the short amount of time she had from when her husband had comm'd; His behavior was clearly atypical and she could see the signs of physical abuse and privation all over him. But in her experience, children were children with a great consistency across species; There was a sure way to get any little boy to start coming out of his shell. "Would you like some ice cream, Shard?"

In total shock at his good fortune, Shard said "ise kreem! Yes, please!"

The lady of the house stood up and offered her hand down. "He's certainly polite!" she smiled at her husband, but her expression said that they would discuss this later.

When dinner time rolled around, Josef had already spent quite a bit of time working the lad over, knitting old broken bones, scrubbing him down and getting rid of the parasites in his fur – the ones in his gut would take longer to purge. But it was a much cleaner, better-smelling little Dosadi boy who Josef brought to the table in a pajama top that was many sizes too large for him and worked well as a dress.

Carol tried to remind herself that she was angry at her husband for bringing a patient into their home, and not just smile at the fuzzy child, fur wet, ears swiveling in every direction and his wide, downcast eyes trying to take everything in all at once. "Well, Shard, you look like you're feeling better!"

"Yes, Carol." he agreed without looking up. She had dealt with abused children before – it would take time for him to regain his spirit; it if were possible at all. Occasionally, there were those who could never overcome the damage done to their psyche.

"Are you hungry?"

Both ears did a fast flick, "Yes please, Carol."

During her quick read on Dosadi, she saw that while they were omnivorous like humans, they had a very strong preference for meat. So tonight's supper was a quick combination of leftovers, heavy on the proteins. "Well come have a seat and let's see what you like. There's meatloaf and some pork chops and a little roast beef, and some potatoes and carrots, and milk to drink!"

Shard risked a quick glance at the table covered with more food than he could ever remember seeing, none of it he recognized. "I like rat a lot. And thevet or pashtol."

Josef and Carol looked at each other. _"Rat?!"_ they both shuddered at that thought. Carol continued, "Well, what do you say you try a little bit of everything then and we see what you like? C'mon!" she patted the chair next to herself. "Have a seat and let's get some food on your plate."

Shard obediently hopped onto the chair, tucking his tail around the side – Josef had helpfully split the back of the old pajama top to make room for it. Carol began taking little bits of various foods and putting them on a plate set in front of him and there was a tall glass of milk. He stared at the food. He was warm, and cleaner than he had been in almost half his life.

Misunderstanding his hesitation, Carol reached her arms around him and picked up the silverware and started cutting up the small slice of roast beef and the bit of chop she had picked out for him. She felt him start to shake, and hiccup and then just start to bawl. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, rocking slowly back and forth; She recognized the reaction.

Josef, concerned, watched the two of them, a questioning look on his face. His wife, continuing to cuddle the boy, just gave her husband a slight smile so that he would realize this wasn't anything to be worried about. She'd explain later that she was actually relieved; There were still emotions in the child - he hadn't been so badly damaged that they were bottled up permanently.

Taking the hint from her, Josef served himself, filled a plate for the lady and began nibbling slowly at his meal. It really didn't take all _that_ long for Shard to cry himself out and try to apologize, only to be reassured by Carol. She spent the meal helping him to try the different foods, alternating with some for herself. They kept the conversation light, talking about what animals and plants were represented at the table, some local history – nothing that would upset their young guest.

By the time dinner was over, Shard was so full he was very sleepy. Constable Sully's only redeeming feature had been that he at least fed Shard regularly, so he wasn't so starved he couldn't keep a full meal down. When Carol and Josef started to clear the table, he shook himself awake and jumped to help.

Josef was impressed. "Shard, thank you for offering to help." He gently took the plate from the child's delicate hands. "We'll expect you to help most nights, but tonight, you're tired. Why don't you just go to bed, make an early night of it?"

Shard looked around. There was no way he was going to attempt to get on any of the furnishings he could see – he was thrilled to have been invited on the chair, but that was too small to sleep on. "Is there someplace here I can sleep? I can usually find someplace warm in..."

Josef quickly knelt down and put his hand on Shard's shoulder, "Shard, shhh. It's going to take you some time to get used to, but this is home..." he caught his wife's meaningful look, "for at least a while. You've got a _bed_ and a room of your own. Here, come with me." he set the plate back down on the table and took Shard's hand. He led him up the stairs to a small room with a single bed, a desk and a dresser. "This will be _your_ room, Shard. _Your _space. That's _your_ bed."

Shard was nearly overwhelmed. The whole structure of the house was very different from what he had known on Dosad – Dosadi didn't use a lot of stairs. Usually they used a ramp covered with something like sisal. They also tended to sleep in groups in low, recessed, soft sleeping areas. Selenda had a bed like that, though. He looked up at the doctor. "You won't be mad if I sleep on that?"

Josef shook his head emphatically. "No, Shard. It's _yours_. Come on, lad." He pulled the covers down and patted the mattress. When Shard hesitated again, he encouraged him until he finally crawled in, and Hunter pulled the covers over him. "Now, you've got fur, so that might be a bit warm for you. If it is, just kick 'em off until you're comfortable!"

The boy's eyes were very wide, and it was clear he was shocked. This was the softest thing he had felt in many years. He had absolutely no idea what to do, or say. His eyes and ears suddenly flicked to the door and Josef turned to see his wife at the door, a stuffed animal in her hands.

"Shard, I remember being your age. It can be scary to be in a new place, the first few nights." She walked closer and Josef tried hard not to smile. "I'm going to lend you a friend of mine from when I was a little girl. He helped me not be scared and he listened really well when I wanted to tell someone secrets or was frightened." She tucked the worn old teddy bear into Shard's arms. "This is Ted E. Bear. I'm sure he'd like to have you for his friend now too." She leaned down and kissed him between his ears. "Now get some sleep and we'll see what tomorrow brings." She gently removed the ear-piece from his ear and set it on the dresser, right where he could see it.

Josef didn't need a second hint. He followed his wife out, turned out the light and shut the door. When they got down to their shared study, he couldn't quite gauge her mood.

"Josef, what have you done?"

He decided to be firm with her. "Luv, that boy is on his last legs. You don't know how bad it was – Constable Sully was about to murder him and skin him. He said he doesn't even _know_ how long he's been lost out there running around the Dales, surviving on his wits. He thought it was over four _years_. I couldn't just walk away."

"You didn't need to walk away, Josef. You should have taken him to hospital. They could find where he belongs, find his family."

"I know, I thought about it, luv, I really did. But...You saw those eyes, I couldn't. He had just given up. He wasn't even trying to stop Sully from killing him; he was just sitting there waiting for the blow to land. If he went to hospital, they'd process him and it would be just impersonal and he'd be one more cog in a machine. Once I got him out of that cage, he was about to bolt back into the woods; I made him promise to stay with us until he'd put on some weight!"

"You think we can do a better job than the experts at hospital?" She shook her head, "Josef, I want a baby – _our _baby. That little boy isn't even _human_. We don't know the first thing about his needs, his culture, anything! How are we supposed to take care of him?"

He put his hands on his wife's arms. "Like we do any patient, any child – with love and patience and understanding. So he's an alien, we can study up on his species, his culture; And teach him _ours_." Suddenly realizing that made it sound like he was planning on Shard staying a lot longer than a few weeks he continued, "Look at it like a practice run, Carol. You deal with kids every day at school, now you'll get a chance to see how you do with one at home. He likes you, you saw that!"

"He's desperate for any sort of contact, Josef. That's not the same thing. We need to find out where he belongs."

"I've got plenty of fur in the loo, I'll send them up to Starfleet and get a DNA run done, see when he came here, where he belongs back on Dosad. It'll take a bit, and then he'll get back to his own people. In the meantime...I'm sorry, luv, I couldn't drop him off at hospital and walk away. You ever see a kid that beat up being polite? Or trying to help clear the table? Someone started him off right, at least."

"He's tough, that's for certain. Especially if he's really been on his own as long as he thinks." She thought back to big, golden eyes and furry ears and smiled. "And he is adorable, I'll grant you that. Did you _see_ him cuddle up to Ted?"

Grinning, Josef knew he had her. "It's not like it's forever, luv. I'm sure once we find out where his family is, he'll want to run home. And we'll have done a good thing. And admit it, it _is_ good practice for parenthood."

She shook her finger at him, but with a smile on her face, "Josef Hunter, you are a snake oil salesman, and my mother was right to warn me that you were after only one thing!"

"Mmmm! Two things...Three if you count your mind..." he swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

It was almost 2AM when they heard a faint scratching at their bedroom door. Carol barely stirred, so Josef, thinking to himself that having someone else in the house was going to take some getting used to, softly called out, "Come in!"

Shard fumbled with the door a little bit, then slowly made his way into the dark room. To his eyes, however, there was plenty of light. His tail was dragging on the ground and he had Ted E. Bear clutched in his free hand. He stopped halfway across the floor and just stared at his feet, afraid to say anything.

"What's up, Shard? Other than you, I mean?" Josef asked with a smile. He had heard new parents were up at all hours of the night; He guessed that applied to little boys as much as to infants.

Without his earpiece, the words were meaningless sounds. But the question was obvious. "Can I...Would it be okay if...May I please sleep in here tonight?" he tried to talk fast to get his pitch out before they could say no, "I won't make any noise, I can find a spot out of the way, I promise." The only problem was, neither human had their UT earpiece in and the spatter of Dosadi was completely unintelligible to them.

However, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know what he wanted. Carol decided to rescue her husband before he tried to sell her on the idea anyway. "Come on, Shard. Hop up here." She scooted back into Josef, forcing him to shift backwards as well until there was a nice kit-sized space on the bed.

Like them, Shard couldn't understand a word. But her actions made her meaning plain. Not daring to question his good luck, Shard quickly crawled into their bed and curled up around Ted, his furry back barely touching Carol's front. She wrapped her arms around the boy and pulled him close, then stroked the silky fur between his ears and down his neck. "Josef, he is so _soft_!" A few minutes later there was a faint rumbling sound coming from Shard's throat accompanied by deep, regular breathing. "Oh my god, Josef...he's _purring_!"

Josef chuckled to himself. "I'll be damned. I didn't know they did that." He nuzzled his wife's neck. "Can you blame him? Warm and clean and full and safe for the first time in years, and sleeping in a nice soft bed with a beautiful woman rubbing his ears. I'd purr too!"

"I'm _not _rubbing those big flaps you call ears, Josef." she teased.

"Are you angry with me, luv? For bringing him here?"

"I was, a little." She admitted. "Especially so soon after...things didn't work out this time." She continued to pet Shard's furry head. "But you're right. He needs something more than what he'd get in a facility."

Relieved, he teased back, "Well, you always said you wanted a cat _oof!_" she had elbowed him – _somewhat_ gently.

"Shush. You'll wake him up."

Two weeks later and Dr. Josef Hunter came home with a rather puzzled expression on his face. His wife looked up from where she was working on teaching Shard how to read, write, and speak Standard. Shard's face broke into a genuine smile, "Helloa Yosef!" he called out. In the last two weeks he had put on nearly five pounds and almost all of his various injuries and infestations were healed.

"Hello, Shard!" he returned the greeting. "Hello, Doctor Hunter" he teased his wife.

"Hello yourself, Doctor Hunter. You're home a little early today. Everything okay?"

"Yes. I, ah, got a return from Dosad. And Starfleet."

"Oh!" her face fell, then she quickly put on a smile. "Good news then, we'll know where he belongs!" She glanced at Shard's earpiece – it was still on the table, so he couldn't understand what was being said. He was busily trying to perfect writing his name, the long, delicate fingers guiding the pencil across the page.

"Well, it's rather confusing, actually."

"What do you mean confusing?" She cocked her head.

"He never came to Earth."

"How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure. Because he also never left Dosad."

"What?" She was very confused now.

"Dosad has absolutely no record of him. No DNA match."

"That has to be a clerical error of some sort." Carol stated firmly.

"You'd think. Except according to Starfleet, he never came here either. No DNA match for any visitor, ever."

"Was he born _here_?"

"If he was, it wasn't at any hospital or attended by any physician, and he speaks Dosadi, not Standard. Starfleet ran a DNA check against all birth records and got nothing. The kid's a ghost."

"My tricorder puts his mastery of Dosadi at about a five year-old's level. But it's his native tongue." She watched Shard work with his pencil for a bit. His ears were tracking on them and he'd occasionally sneak a glance at them both, but he was being very studious; and as was normal for him, very good.

"Josef, that can't be. He's smart. He's got enough curiosity for seven cats. He's so obedient I worry about it...He can't just have sprung up out of nothing."

He grinned. "Obedient? This is the same boy you swatted on the butt for climbing up onto the cabinets and nearly giving you a heart attack whilst peering down at you?"

She rolled her eyes. "To be fair, I never told him specifically _not_ to do that. Seriously though, Josef. That's a good thing that he's starting to come out of his shell some – and he _needs _normal. Believe it or not, a gentle swat on the rump was better for him right at that moment than telling him how special he was for scaring me out of my skin."

"Doctor, I wouldn't dream of questioning you about your specialty."

"Wanker." She said agreeably and looked at Shard again. "Josef, what are we going to do? He really _doesn't_ belong anywhere."

He pulled up a chair and looked at the characters Shard was drawing on the paper. "Luv...He belongs _here_."

She thought about it for a bit, neither of them saying anything. "Are you sure about that, Josef? What about our plans for a baby?"

"I've been thinking about it for two weeks, Carol. I am sure. And what about them? I think he'd be an outstanding big brother."

She watched the boy working diligently. He had made great strides on his penmanship, forming the letters in neat, small strokes.

He decided to push a bit. "Well, the other option is we go find someplace to dump him and let them figure it out."

She glared at her husband, "That was unkind Josef. 'Dump' him indeed. I know what you're trying to do, and I will not be guilted into a decision of this magnitude."

He grinned. "Can't blame a bloke for trying."

"Can so." She put her hand on Shard's arm and pointed at his ear-piece, then waited for him to put it in. "Shard, can I ask you some questions, please?"

"Yes, Carol." He could tell that something serious was going on, and he struggled not to let his fear take control.

"Do you remember where you were born, hon?"

"Yes, Carol. On Dosad. But, there's a lot I don't remember any more. I think I used to, but..."

Josef said, "Shard, that's perfectly normal for someone who suffered several head injuries at your age. It's Okay."

Carol continued, "Do you remember your family?"

He looked down, "Some. My parents didn't take very good care of me. They smoked a lot. I remember they died." He very clearly wanted to shy away from that topic.

"Any other family? Anyone anywhere?"

"No, Carol. I remember that."

"Shard, no one knows where you're from or how you got here. Do you remember that?"

"A little. There was a ship, and I got to hunt rats and then we came down here and Selenda died and people were trying to skin me and I ran."

Carol studied him. If he came on a ship, Starfleet would have his DNA on file. If he was born on Dosad, the Imperium would have his DNA on file. His memories were obviously confused by his youth and the injuries, but...He had to have come from _somewhere_. "Hon, we need to make some decisions."

His ears drooped, so did his whiskers. He carefully set the pencil down, his eyes focused on the paper.

Josef hurried to reassure him, "It's OK, Shard. No one is going to make you do anything you don't want to. We still have our deal; I think you've got at _least_ ten pounds to go." and he smiled.

Shard wasn't all that reassured.

Carol shot her husband a quick glare. "What do you think you want to do, Shard?"

"What do you mean, Carol?" he asked, still focused on the paper.

"_If_ you want us to, we could take you someplace where they would help you find a family, someplace to live forever."

He shrank back into himself, very much as he had in Sully's jail.

"What's wrong, Shard?" Carol asked. Josef opened his mouth and Carol emphatically shushed him.

He reached up and held onto the red tag on his necklace and muttered something.

"Shard, I couldn't hear you, hon. What was that?"

"I like being here." he said, barely audibly.

She touched his arm again. "That's good, Shard. If you could go anywhere, where would you go? Back to Dosad? Find a family? Back to the woods?"

Josef was getting angry, what the hell was she doing?

Whispering, Shard said, "Can't I stay here any more?"

"Is that what you want Shard?"

Desperation in his eyes he looked at both of them, "Please?"

"I need to be sure that it's really what you want, Shard. Because if you say you want to stay with us, forever, then it _is_ forever. You can't change your mind later. You haven't been here very long. You're going to have days when you're mad at us or we're mad at you and we punish you or yell at you; but we'll always love you, do you understand? So be really, really sure before you answer."

That got Josef's attention. She'd never said anything about loving the boy. Neither had he, though he supposed he had since very soon after he had brought him home.

"I want to stay."

"You're sure? You might find a better family, someone you like better, someone who takes better care of you."

Josef contributed, "If you stay, Shard, that'll mean you can't run off to the woods once you put on the weight."

Carol glared at him again. "Be sure, Shard. We could get you back to Dosad, where everyone's like you."

He shuddered briefly at that memory and then looked at both of them and said, very confidently. "I want to stay. Please let me stay."

Carol took a deep breath and took Josef's hand in hers. "Well then. I supposed we'd better go see an attorney. I don't suppose he counts as a foreign national if they've got no record of him, but this is going to be a bit of a sticky wicket."

Shard was confused, "I don't understand. What?"

"We're going to adopt you, Shard. You'll be our son, for real. Forever. If you're _sure._"

The lad again looked at both of them, back and forth. "You'd really do that? You'd really be my parents?"

Josef nodded, "Yup. If you want us to be."

There wasn't even a moment's hesitation now. "Yes, please."

Carol gave him a hug. "Then that's what we'll do."


	11. Chapter 10

_**CHAPTER 10**_

"_You don't need to be a hero. Just be a man with the soul of a lion."_

_- Friedrich Nietzshe_

_**REETH, YORKSHIRE DALES, ENGLAND, EARTH**_

_**NOVEMBER 2354**_

Shard fidgeted in his new school uniform. The dark blue trousers, fuzzy v-neck sweater, and light-blue oxford shirt were reasonably tolerable. But he absolutely _hated _the shiny, solid shoes and the necktie. He was continually sliding a finger under the collar of his shirt and attempting to loosen the tie, ears switching from up to down and back again. Dosadi didn't really have a nudity taboo and that was something that Carol and Josef had tried to roll with throughout the last year. But they had also tried to impress upon him the need for obeying _human_ cultural norms about clothing when he left the house.

Carol watched her son attempt to convince her that he was being either strangled or having his feet mangled and tried very hard not to grin at him. The last year had been one of exceptional progress and she had long since stopped wondering if they had done the right thing. She put her chin on her hand, recalling the battered, starved, parasite-infested half-wild child her husband had brought home _last_ winter.

She had cut back considerably on her travels and out-of-house practice, only leaving when Josef could be home. Her patients understood and those with troubled children found that their offspring saw a sort of guide in Shard. Carol found that she could ask Shard to talk with frightened kids with confidence. Very few children don't like to pet cats, and having one that talked was even better – especially when he was the same size as you and played marbles. She wondered how the boy had come by the compassionate heart that he clearly had. How could someone who had obviously endured almost constant suffering found such empathy?

And he was _smart_. In only a year he had learned the basics of Standard and could read and write at a level that was only a couple years behind his age group. Math he picked up with such speed that it was almost frightening; Apparently the many brain injuries that Josef had detected along with the un-treated skull fractures hadn't affected his mind much. While his memory of the days before he came to live with them was hazy and missing major chunks, he was able to quickly memorize almost anything put before him and understand it nearly as rapidly.

Watching her son twist his head back and forth and shuffle his feet she wondered how anyone could want to hurt him. He had seemed so strange at first – her mind had struggled with trying to think of him as a boy and not as a pet; Especially when he purred. He _looked_ so much like a cat – but one glance at his eyes and you saw the person inside. Her confusion had faded the longer she spent teaching him. Now she saw a beautiful eleven year-old boy with golden eyes and lustrous tan fur, long whiskers and mobile, upright ears with a long pink tongue. She saw her son.

He was – usually – very obedient and eager to please. As he became more sure that they really _were_ permanent, it helped him become a more normal boy. The panicked trips into their room to make sure they were real, and safe, and still wanted him to stay became more infrequent over time. He would still sometimes have a bad day and not leave her side, or tearfully beg Josef not to leave on a call, but mostly he was settled. And despite his hard-won ability with Standard, he absolutely refused to take his red name tag off his neck. Even to bathe. Any attempts to get the neck chain over his head were met with tears, and a very limp, uncooperative child; It was his talisman. The marbles, at least, she had managed to get into a proper leather pouch and onto a belt. She could never bear to touch the rat-skin bag they had been in.

"_Please_ mom?"

She shook her head, "I'm sorry, Shard, what?"

"Can't I take this off? I can't breathe!"

Suppressing her grin she chided him, "No, Shard, it's part of the uniform. All the other boys will be wearing them too. It won't kill you. Men used to wear those every single day all day."

He stuck his tongue out and opened his mouth wide, "Gaa! Can't I stay home and you can keep teaching me?"

"Shard, you need to go to a regular school too; We'll keep studying here too, but it's time. You need to meet people your own age."

He struggled with the memories of people his own age. "What if they don't like me, mom?"

She shrugged, "Their loss. Shard, some of them won't like you. Some will. Some won't care one way or another. Some will think you're funny looking. Some will think you're adorable. Some will be mean. Hmm." She thought quickly, "Shard, if someone is mean, don't fight them, OK?"

His shoulders slumped. "I only got beat up. I don't fight very well. No one ever taught me very much."

"That was on Dosad?"

"Yes."

"Here _you're_ going to be bigger, stronger, and faster than the other children your age. And you've got claws. If you're not careful you could kill them or hurt them really badly. So don't do it, OK?"

Shocked, Shard asked, "_I'd_ be bigger and stronger?"

Her face stern she answered, "Yes. Dosadi are built differently. You know that, you've seen the children that come to see me and you've come with me on at _least_ two school visits. Your muscles are denser and faster than a human's. And you _know_ you've got claws."

He glanced quickly at the sofa, one end still covered with a large throw pillow. It had been great fun to jump on and leap off of it, but the natural instinct to use claws for traction had been awfully hard on it. "Yes, mom. I won't...But you wouldn't have to worry if I just stayed home with you."

"Shard..."

"They can't teach me what it's like to be Dosadi, you do. And I like how you..."

"Shard." She interrupted him firmly. "You're afraid, I understand. But you're brave. And this is something Josef and I want you to do – you'll make friends and you'll learn so much you'll be amazed!" She glanced up to see the APV pull up outside. "Shard, hop! Your ride is here. Go, have fun, and we're both so excited to hear your stories when you get back this afternoon!"

"Can I at least take my earpiece?" Golden eyes met blue ice. Heading off to his fate, Shard hopped.

Aliens weren't completely unknown in Earth schools; But they weren't common. They were even less common in Yorkshire, with the exception of a pair of 1/8 Dosadi teenagers who went to the secondary school in Leyburn, and they looked fairly human. The three teachers at the small St Margaret's primary school in Hawes never really made any connection between the two; For education, they were very different worlds.

When Shard got on the APV with it's half-dozen bench seats, the eight children already aboard just stared. So he took the first open space available, next to a boy who looked to be an inch or two taller than himself with straw-colored hair and pale blue eyes. Eyes that were very wide watching Shard sit next to him. Shard made sure to stay as quiet as possible, looking down at the floor of the APV.

After a few minutes and another pair of children boarding, the boy finally cleared his throat. "An' what are you now?"

Shard risked a glance. He didn't look challenging. He looked, and smelled curious. "I'm a Dosadi."

"What the bloody hell is a Dosadi?" The boy was proud of being able to curse and enjoyed showing off his skill – at least when adults weren't about.

Shard turned his head and looked at him. "I dunno, people from Dosad. It's a planet."

"You look like a bloody great cat."

"And you look like a bald monkey."

The boy flipped his middle finger at Shard.

Shard popped the claws on one hand, which is pretty much the Dosadi version of the bird.

"Bugger me! Do that again!"

Slightly confused at the sudden change in direction the conversation was taking, he held his hand up and popped his claws out again. five sharp, half-inch long claws sprang into view, and he held them out.

"Damn! Robby look at this! They're like built-in knives!"

Another boy leaned over the seat-back and whistled. "How sharp are they?"

The first boy asked, "Yeah, can you like cut stuff with them?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I shredded our couch, kinda, by accident, and I hunted with them for a long time, so I know I can kill a sheep with them."

"You hunt? Where?"

"I uh, I lived in the woods for a while, I had to hunt to eat."

"Damn! Dosad's gotta be one crazy weird place!" the first boy exclaimed. "Well then, I'm Conan, and this is my best mate Robby."

Surprised, Shard introduced himself, "I'm Shard."

"Glad to meet ya. Hey, what year are you in?"

"I guess sixth."

"Hey we'll be in the same room!" Both boys laughed and said in chorus "Ms. Zora!"

"Huh?" Shard asked.

"That's your teacher. She's really strict. She's easy to tease though. You can help!"

The girl seated across the aisle leaned over and added, "Don't get him in trouble before he even _gets _there Conan."

The boy cheerfully flipped her off and she responded with the traditional 'wanker' gesture.

Robby offered, "Hey, with built-in knives he could maybe do something about Gordon."

Shard asked, "Gordon?"

"I'm Bonnie by the way; Gordon's the only boy in school who _shaves_."

Robby added, "He's a total wanker."

Conan, seeing Shard's expression tried to explain, "He's a bully. Oh, if you brought lunch credits, hide them or he'll take them. Oh, and put a knot in your tie like this, or he'll pull it tight and choke you."

Dr Carol Hunter tried to conceal her worry and remain the calm professional she was. She'd met with countless troubled children who had been summoned to the office. Compassionate listening combined with a thorough understanding of school rules and patient explanations of proper behavior to the child usually paid solid dividends. But this time it was _her _son. And how had he managed to get into trouble before mid-afternoon? He was a good boy; what had happened? The school had only said that she was summoned to a meeting with the Head as soon as convenient – which obviously meant now.

She hurried into the office, looking perhaps somewhat more frantic than she preferred. The only staffer there showed her to the Head's office where she saw her son, eyes downcast, ears, whiskers, and tail drooping. His shirt was un-tucked, the sweater's neck pulled all out of shape, the tie a wrinkled wreck and there was mud on his trousers and shoes.

"Shard! What _happened?!" _She realized how stereotypical she sounded the moment the Head spoke.

"Ah, Doctor Hunter. Thank you for coming on such short notice. Won't you please have a seat? Tea, perhaps?"

Carol struggled to be her professional self and take a cup with the Head, waiting patiently for him to pour. They spent a few moments sipping the tea and discussing the weather before he finally got to the point, clearing his throat loudly. The man was large, with reddish skin that looked chapped and a goatee that was far more grey than black these days.

"Doctor, I am sorry to have had to call you here for such an... unpleasant reason."

"Well, I appreciate that Mr. Martin. And what _is _that reason?" Shard had barely moved since she entered the office and hadn't made a sound.

"Well, Doctor, your...son. He's been fighting."

"Oh _Shard_!" She caught herself immediately. "I see. And what were the circumstances?"

"Well, the circumstances don't really enter into it, Doctor. The boy he beat up was quite traumatized."

"Traumatized? What happened?"

"I've been unable to get any real details from your son, you understand, beyond the usual 'he started it' nonsense. The victim states that your son put him in some sort of wrestling hold and choked him until he fainted and apparently forced him to eat several sheets of paper."

"How did he make him eat the paper if he had fainted?"

"I'm not quite sure, but there were witnesses."

She turned to look at her son. "Shard, is that true? Did you choke another boy and make him eat paper?"

Not looking up he only nodded, completely ashamed.

"Why, hon?"

Whispering, "He started it."

"May I speak to one or two of these witnesses?"

"That's not really necessary, Doctor. I've already ascertained the facts of the matter, as you can see. Your son admits to it."

"Nevertheless, Mr. Martin, I'm going to have to insist. As a fellow professional, I'm sure you understand that it's important to gain as much information as possible before formulating an approach."

He cleared his throat again. "I'm hesitant to take these students out of class any more today. Classroom time is precious, as you can appreciate."

"Still, the boy he choked will be needed so that he can apologize, and I would like for one of the witnesses to provide me with details as well as to see that Shard has made amends. It is important for others to see that actions have consequences. I do insist, Mr. Martin."

Frowning, Mr Martin finally agreed. A few minutes later, Gordon Sinclair and Bonnie Campbell were brought into his office. Carol heard Bonnie's fast whispered "Good on ya, Shard!" but gave no sign. The boy he had choked was a foot taller, and heavily muscled for an 11 year-old, with dark hair and eyes. His clothes were hardly mussed at all.

Carol studied the three children, beginning to make her assessment. She looked at Gordon and started there. "Well Gordon, I understand my son choked you and made you eat some paper?"

He looked meek, "Yes, ma'am. I didn't do anything. He's just that mean."

Bonnie quickly interjected "You did _so!_ You _always_ do..."

Carol interrupted, "Bonnie, please. Wait to be asked before you say something." The girl shut her mouth. "So what happened, Gordon?"

"I was just standing on the courtyard at lunch time. I wasn't doing anything. He came up and called me a poof and said he could thrash me if he liked. I tried to walk away and he jumped on my back and pushed my face on the ground and then he took my homework and made me eat it."

Bonnie was about to burst. Carol ignored her for a few more moments. "That's not very nice of him at all. Can I see your hands, please?"

The boy held up his hands and Carol noted that the knuckles on both were abraded – The palms were uninjured. She looked at Shard and could see dark bruises under one eye; If you knew his markings you could see them through the fur, otherwise they were very hard to see. "Shard, what's a poof?"

Still staring at his feet and whispering, "I don't know. I've never heard that word before."

"And what does it mean to thrash someone?"

"I don't know that word. Is it like trash? So like, make them something you'd throw out?"

Gordon chirped up, "He's lying!"

"All right, Gordon. He's only just learned Standard though, and I've taught him pretty much every word he knows, and I've not taught him either of those."

Shard offered, "I learned 'wanker' on the bus today."

Carol tried not to laugh at that.

Gordon accused him again, "He's lying!"

"Okay, Gordon." she said soothingly. "What happened to your hands?"

"Huh?"

She took one of his hands and turned it palm down. "Your knuckles are all red and scraped up."

"Uh. I must've landed on 'em when he jumped on my back!"

"I see." She nodded. "Well. Bonnie, was it? What do _you_ say happened?"

Finally allowed to speak, the words almost tumbling one over the other she told the story very quickly. "Gordon took our lunch credits again and he started pushing Shard around and calling him a pussycat and pulled on his sweater and then tried to choke him with his tie and kicked mud all over his shoes and when he started pulling on his whiskers Shard tried to make him stop and he punched Shard in the face and Shard tried to leave and he pulled on his tail really _hard_! Then he laughed and he pushed me down in the mud and that's when Shard jumped over and knocked him down – he hit Shard again a couple times but Shard sat on him and choked him and he didn't faint he was crying and Shard took the homework he stole from Robby and made him _eat_ it!" and she gasped for breath.

Gordon cried out "Liar!"

Mr Martin said, "The girl's story is ridiculous. Gordon has always been a model student."

"Interesting. Gordon, please put your hands on Mr. Martin's desk. Thank you. Now make fists. Mr. Martin, do you see the characteristic wounds on the knuckles? Those are from punching. Now, look here." She gently, but firmly, took Shard's head and angled it up to the light, parting the fur so the bruises on his cheek were visible. "And look at the state of Shard's clothing – and the mud on his trousers and shoes. Compare it to Gordon's clothing."

Martin did so, his eyes narrowing. "Hmmm."

"What happened to the papers Gordon was forced to eat?"

"They're in quite a sorry state, I threw them out."

Doctor Hunter was quite used to messes. She reached into the wastebasket and fished the pieces out, smoothing the slobbery bits onto Mr. Martin's desk. "You can still make out part of the name. 'Bert'. Would that be Robby, Ms. Campbell?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Carol sat down again and took another sip of tea. "Well, Mr. Martin. Every piece of evidence I see here supports Bonnie's story and absolutely none of it supports Gordon's. I think you brought the wrong student in your office."

Martin glared at Gordon. "It would appear I was mistaken. I apologize." He turned to Shard and Bonnie both, "And I apologize to you both as well. I should have looked into the matter further; very pressed for time, I'm sure you understand. You may both return to your class. I'll call Gordon's father."

Carol stood up, "Thank you, Mr. Martin. I appreciate your open-mindedness. I'll bid you good day." She walked out just behind Shard and Bonnie, Shard's tail still dragging and everything in his posture showing his shame. When she shut the door, she stopped her son and turned him toward her, kneeling down to his level. Bonnie walked a few paces past and peeked over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, mom. I'm so sorry, please don't hate me. I know I shouldn't have fought him, you said not to and I did and I'm so sorry."

She wrapped him up in a hug, placing her hand on the back of his head and holding him tight. "Shard, I'm so proud of you I could _burst_." She was surprised at herself. She was no fan of schoolyard tussles and had dealt with countless incidents in her career; Somehow this was different.

"What?" He was confused.

She held him back a little bit so she could see him. "Shard, you put up with a lot of abuse from that bully and didn't fight back. You didn't fight until he went after someone smaller and weaker, and you fought to defend them. That was the _right_ thing to do. That's the only time that violence is appropriate – defending an innocent." She kissed her son on his forehead. She had dealt with bullies – they could be taught not to be, but she was finding it impossible to be dispassionate in this instance. "When you get home tonight, you are getting the biggest bowl of ice cream ever." She hugged him again then turned him around, swatted his rump and said, "Get back to class." and watched him go. Except now, his tail and ears were up and his friend was waiting for him.

That evening, the family had just finished their supper and Shard was clearing the table – one of his regular chores – before returning to his studies when the door chimed.

Josef looked up from an epidemiology text he was studying, "Eh?" Putting the book down he went to see who was there; It wasn't uncommon for people to come to visit either him or his wife professionally, or personally. When he opened the door, it wasn't one of his regular patients at all, or Carol's. Instead it was a very large man; Had it been several hundred years ago, he would have been a steelworker. With him was clearly his son – Gordon Sinclair. Compared to Shard, the boy was huge; Josef was impressed.

"Good evening." he greeted them both. "How can I help you?"

The man nudged his son. Well, nudge might be too gentle a term as the boy nearly fell face first before catching himself. He looked up and said, "I'm here to apologize."

"Ah, that's the right thing to do there, lad." He turned his head and called, "Shard! Come here, please."

Shard came in a few moments later and did a skip-step when he saw Gordon at the door – and his father, who towered over _his_ father. The man made Shard look tiny. The boy walked closer and tried not to hide behind Josef. "Hello Gordon." he said. His accent was nowhere near as bad as it had been, but Dosadi facial structure tended to give their Standard pronunciation a Swedish sound.

Gordon looked up at his father and then quickly back down at Shard's and Josef's feet. "Sorry."

Gordon's father nudged him again, much more gently this time.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "Shard, I'm sorry I called you names and took your lunch credits and pulled your tail and hit you."

Shard blinked. This was the first time in his life anyone had ever apologized to him and he was more than a little shocked. Josef gave him a gentle nudge as well. "Uh, Okay. I uh. That's okay. I guess I'm kinda different from what you're used to."

"Yeah." he kept staring at his shoes. Carol had come up and was standing a few feet behind her son and husband.

Gordon's father asked Josef, "Good enough?"

Josef looked at Shard. "I think so. No harm done. I got in a few schoolyard fights with my mates when I was growing up too."

The man grunted, "Part a growin' up. We got two more to go. Have a good night." and he collected his son and headed off.

Shard's ears were sharp enough to hear the man ask his son, as they were walking away, "You let that itty bitty kitty beat the crap out of you?" before Josef shut the door. He managed to keep the smile off his face before turning back inside; Carol wouldn't like that.

Toward the end of December, Shard got another surprise – once again, things in his life refused to do what he expected. When his parents began getting out boxes of glittery baubles and garlands and putting up a living evergreen tree in the living room, he remembered the hopes he had his second winter – pretending that _he_ was inside the gayly decorated house. And here he was.

Both Carol and Josef were having more fun this Christmas season than they'd ever had before. Watching the boy happily leaping from holding a strand of tinsel to helping put items on the tree to setting out items on tables with ever increasing joy was the best gift they'd ever received. For Shard, it was incredible. Even in his wildest dreams, he had never imagined things could go this well for him.

He was doing well at school, though there were some subjects he still struggled with. But, after the incident with Gordon on his first day, other kids looked up to _him_. Instead of being disliked or mocked, girls wanted to pet his fur. Boys wanted to see his claws; and see what they could do (which had resulted in another trip to the office for a meeting about 'vandalism'). And bullying came to a complete halt in any grade. He didn't even have to _do _anything. The mere sight of Shard was enough for bullies to suddenly find someplace else to be.

He had even learned to play football – fortunately for the soccer ball, his shoes kept his claws safely tucked away. The players soon found that Shard was very quick, had incredible coordination and a leaping ability that put anyone else to shame. Though not much of a striker due to his bad leg, he quickly became the best goalkeeper in the small school. _Nothing_ got by Shard. Far from being shunned, as he had been back on Dosad, he was usually the first picked for any team.

To him, it felt like a dream some days. It was just such a radical change from the first ten years of his life. That sense – and fear – that it was a dream became too much every now and again; Which was when Carol and Josef would find him crawling into their bed, or being very clingy. But today, if it felt like a dream, it was one that he was more than happy to enjoy. For once, all the amazing smells and sounds _were_ his to enjoy.

Carol handed him another small box of things to hang on the tree. "Here, you finish putting these up, hon. Josef, can I talk with you in the kitchen, please?" She turned back to Shard, "And you, mister big-ears, do _not _listen." But she said it with a big smile.

"Yes, mom." He agreed and started to work on the tree.

A few minutes later, his parents came back into the room, holding hands. Carol told him, "Shard, would you put that box down and have a seat, please?"

"Yes, mom." he said quietly. They didn't look or smell angry, so he wasn't worried at all. He went over to the couch – avoiding the section he had shredded – and sat down, watching them both; Eyes and ears focused intently.

Holding her hands behind her back she said, "You still don't remember when you were born, do you hon?"

"No, mom. I think it was winter time."

Josef said, "Of course, that was on Dosad too. We have no idea when that might have been in our calendar either."

"Okay?" Shard wasn't quite sure where this was going.

Carol smiled, "Well, hon, it's been a year since you came to live with us. You were an unexpected present; We hadn't really celebrated Christmas for a few years before that. It's traditional for people to celebrate a loved one's birthdays too. But we don't _know_ when your birthday was."

Shard was puzzled. "Yah, so we can't celebrate that, right?"

Josef grinned, "That depends. We're going to _pick_ a birthday for you."

"You can do that?"

"Yep. And it was exactly a year ago today Josef rescued you from the jail. So you know what?"

Shard thought he did, but he wasn't going take the chance. "What?"

"We're going to pick today as your birthday." Josef told him.

"I get a birthday, for real?"

"Yes, Shard, for real." Josef chuckled.

Carol brought out the wrapped gift from behind her back. "We've been planning on this for a little while, Shard." She was smiling broadly. "We're very proud of you, and we love you very much and we are _so _happy that you are our son. Happy birthday!" and handed him the small box.

In the last year he had gotten progressively more comfortable with his life, but it was still hard for him to believe that all these good things were happening to _him_. He took the box and turned it over in his hands several times. It was about a foot long and four inches wide and maybe one thick. The paper was shiny and blue and there was a bright silver bow stuck on one end.

Josef said, "You're _our_ son, Shard, but you're still Dosadi. We know they don't tend to own a lot of things, and you've always been very, very hesitant to keep anything much, but we want you to have this. It's small and it's the sort of thing people on Dosad tend to own. Go ahead, open it!"

Hesitatingly, he extended one claw and tried to carefully unseal the paper.

Carol laughed, "Shard, it's OK, just rip the paper off. You don't have to be neat."

His ears swiveled. "OK." He slid his claw through the paper, and down, quickly removing it. There were two latches on the long side and he unfastened them, then opened the case. Inside was a black and silver flute, broken down into its three segments. Shards ears twitched forward and his eyes focused intently. It was, quite simply, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Josef told him, "I haven't played much in years, but I can get you started. And we'll hook you up with lessons. Here, take those two pieces and..." and proceeded to teach him how to put the instrument together, and then hold it. After a few minutes, the boy was happily making horribly off-key shrieking sounds that even _his_ ears objected to.

Carol looked at her husband, "And you're absolutely sure this is better than the drum?"

He laughed, "It won't take him long to learn how to play some real notes, hun."

She gave him a fond smile, "I suppose it's better than that bagpipe thing, that 'trusk.'"

As a species, Dosadi tend to sleep in short bursts of two or three hours every seven hours or so. _That_ had taken some serious adapting to for Carol and Josef, who of course preferred to sleep for eight hours at a time, generally at night. For their son, however, night was every bit as much time to be up and about as the day. But like any family, they found ways to adapt to each others' idiosyncrasies and make it work. Lately, Shard had been spending a lot of his night-time hours studying his father's books.

Josef had encouraged the lad's interest – he had an excellent memory, a tremendous amount of compassion and his research into the Dosadi people had shown him that, with their fine-boned, long-fingered hands and fine motor skills they tended to make truly exceptional surgeons. With a nose that was about 10x better than a human's and ears that could hear a broader range of frequencies and triple the sensitivity of a man's, they were well equipped for the medical disciplines. Medical sensors were one thing, but Josef tended to trust a trained eye and a gentle touch over a computerized hunk of plastic and steel.

So, late that winter when the family comm system began an urgent beeping at about 0300 one morning, it was only natural that Shard would answer it. He opened the channel and found a frantic woman on the other end.

"Where's th' doctor? It's urgent!" This far out in the Dales, an emergency visit from an ambulance would take a fair amount of time. True, you could call for an urgent transport from almost anywhere to an emergency department, but that had a number of consequences and an inevitable wait-time, exposure to other sick people, and a lot of inconvenience.

"I'll get him." Shard said – it was clear they meant his father, not his mother. Shard bounded up the stairs and came back in less than a minute with Josef.

Bleary eyed he asked, "What's wrong, Mary?"

"It's Matthew! He's fell through the glass table, he's bleedin' all over! William's holding a bandage on the worst ones now! Can ye come quick?"

Sighing, Josef agreed, "We'll be there in about five minutes, Mary." The lady didn't even say thank you before cutting the connection and returning to her young son. "Get my bag and get ready to go, Shard. I think you're coming with me tonight."

"Really?" Shard was ecstatic. He had never been allowed to accompany his father on a house-call before. His mother had taken him along a few times, but this was an emergency call! He'd been reading up on what to do and all the things that a doctor had to know and do and... By the time Josef had thrown his clothes on and come back downstairs, Shard had everything ready to go and his tail was twitching with excitement.

The trip to the MacArthur's home was uneventful and quick. Mary just shouted at them to come into the living room, without going to the door herself. When they walked in, it looked like a slaughterhouse – the little boy must have lost about half a pint of blood; Which inevitably looks like several gallons. He was about seven years old and still screaming when they came into the room.

Josef took stock of the situation with a glance. "All right then," he started, soothingly. "Shard, open up my kit and take out the nerve blocker, anabolic protoplaser and the wound sealer, please." He squatted down to look at the boy while Shard got things ready. His father was holding a bloody towel firmly on one leg while his other hand clenched another bloody towel around a bare foot. There were more cuts visible on both legs, but they were simply seeping.

The boy recognized the doctor and began to calm down immediately. "I'm not going to get a shot am I?"

'Shots' had gone out centuries ago and a hypo-sprayer felt like nothing more than a sharp pinch, but children were still terrified of getting 'a shot'. At times he thought it had to be genetic... "No, Matthew. We're just going to close those cuts right up for you, all right?"

"What's that?" he looked at Shard; The boy was holding up the tools for his father to use.

"That's my son, that's Shard. Shard, this is Matthew." Josef began to use the protoplaser to ensure that there would be no infection from the cuts.

"He's not your son! He's a cat!"

"I am so his son! And I'm a Dosadi." But Shard grinned, "I just look like a big cat."

The boy was surprised – it talked. "Are you an _alien_?" While they talked, Josef began to gently run the wound sealer along the big slice down his thigh, pinching the tissues together, holding them firmly so that there would be no scarring. It took skill to smoothly alternate from one tool to another, but Josef had years of practice.

"Yah I am. But I live here now. He's my dad now."

"Wow!" He looked at Shard's hands. "Do you got claws?"

Shard held his hand up and popped his claws in and out really fast.

"_Cool_!" the boy declared "Do that again!" Shard did so, holding them out this time and letting him feel them.

"Your hands are freaky."

"That's because my fingers are longer than yours. See?" He held his hand up flat and Matthew held his hand up to it.

"Can I pet you?"

"Sure, if you want to." Shard lowered his head some and the boy began to pet him like a cat. He'd gotten used to it between his mother's patients and the girls at school. After a few minutes, Josef had almost everything closed up, except the slice on Matthew's small foot.

"Hmmm. Shard, I think you can help me with this."

Both parents looked concerned. Shard looked shocked.

"Those long fingers are going to come in handy. Mine are a little thick and get in the way and I don't want to leave a scar. I want you to -gently- push the edges of the wound together so I can seal them. I need you to sort of push from the bottom up so that I can heal it from the inside out, do you understand?"

"Yes, dad. I read about it in one of your books."

"Good. Let's see how you do."

_Everyone_ was focused on Shard – the parents with concern, Matthew with curiosity, and Josef making sure that the boy did it right. "Yes, just like that. A little firmer. Push downward a little more, just a little. Yes." The instrument whirred and whistled, the field causing the cells to stick together, restoring the bonds that the glass had severed.

In a very short while, the deep cut had been almost invisibly healed, leaving nothing more than a dark red line that would fade in a day or two. Mary and William sighed with relief and when Matthew tried to jump down, his mother caught him in mid-squirm. "Oh and that'd be just fine, Matthew. Land on all that glass and we have to do this all over again!"

Josef laughed, "We'll leave you to clean up then. Make sure he gets extra fluids over the next day or two to make up for what he lost, all right? If you have any further trouble, particularly any swelling, bruising, or a temperature, call us back and we'll be right over."

William said, "Thank you, Doctor Hunter. You're a right blessing."

Mary, still holding her son, took the doctor's hand with her free hand. "You're an angel." Looking at Shard she continued, "And looks like you've got an assistant in the family now! That should come in handy!"

Josef smiled at his son, "It surely will. I'm thinking he'll be going into medicine, so maybe it'll be Cambridge or Edinburgh for him!" and the two of them said their farewells and left.

When they got back to the APV, Josef studied his son. "Shard, you did really well. The blood didn't bother you at all? The torn flesh?"

Puzzled, Shard asked, "Should it? It's just meat. I think it's cool how everything works."

Dr Hunter laughed, "I forgot you had to hunt to stay alive. Probably used to it eh?"

"Well, yah. I'm sort of used to seeing things' insides."

"Do you like what we just did there? Putting the cuts back together?"

"Oh yah! I like that better than hunting. And it was fun watching his parents look at us like that, like we were super-heroes or something. As soon as we came in it was like everything was going to be okay!"

Grinning at his son he said, "Yup. That's one reason I love it so much." He considered it for a few moments. "I think I'll start having you come along on calls whenever you can, Shard. You've got a flair for this. You calmed Matthew right down, like it was second nature. That was nice of you to let him pet you."

"I don't mind. I like it. A lot of the girls at school like to pet me."

Josef's eyebrows danced up. "Oh ho! They do, do they?" With a horrified shock he suddenly realized that at some point he'd have to have _that_ talk with his son as well. That would be hard enough with a human son. With an alien...how in the hell would you even start?

_**REETH, YORKSHIRE DALES, ENGLAND, EARTH**_

_**JUNE 2357**_

The weather was gorgeous today. Cobalt blue skies, a gentle breeze and warm sunshine and all the scents and sounds of summertime wafting across the Dales. Shard had climbed well up a big, solid tree, an oak, and was lying draped along a big limb, arms and legs dangling down on either side. His chin was resting on the branch, just letting his senses take in whatever came their way while his mind wandered. The tree was on someone else's land, but they never even knew he was there and he wasn't hurting anything so it wasn't like it mattered anyway. Besides, he had a great view of a lot of the village like this. He could see people moving around, vehicles, just day to day life.

For the last three and a half years, Shard had been living in paradise. He had a family – a real family and a home and friends and he _belonged_. He got to go out on house-calls with both his mother and his father and everyone in the little village knew who he was and most of them liked him and respected him and valued what he had to offer. A few commented that he was probably the best-behaved teenager in the whole of the Dales. Even Gordon had gotten to be something of a friend; At least he wasn't an active enemy any more. He and Shard had mixed it up a couple more times, but had kept it between themselves. Shard felt that had gone a long way toward the two of them getting along better. And he had stopped bullying the other kids.

Lately, in fact, Gordon had been paying entirely too much attention to Bonnie. But then, so had Conan. And Robby. Shard sighed. And so had he. Bonnie had a smile that reminded him of someone, but the memories were all tangled up and pieces were missing. And those memories were just...awful usually. They gave him nightmares if he tried to remember too much. Sometimes he thought it was a Dosadi, other times, a human girl...it never really resolved. The only constant was that they always died – he knew that. Everyone had always died before Josef rescued him.

He sighed again. Like any little girl, Bonnie reveled in all the attention. There hadn't been _that _many girls – or boys – at St. Margaret's, and when everyone had moved up to Richmond School, they had become a sort of core group for their set of friends. Naturally, the boys tended to focus on the girls that lived nearby, but there was a fair amount of checking out the girls from other villages. Shard's only problem was that he wasn't human. Personality-wise he got along _great_ with the girls in school, or in Reeth. But his few attempts at something beyond friendship had ranged from awkward to humorous to downright uncomfortable; Scents, body-shape and cultural prejudices all played a factor. No matter how used to Shard the girls might be, he still looked like a great big cat to them.

While that appearance – and the physical abilities that went along with it – could be a real boon in some areas of teenaged life, in terms of a love-life it was a major disadvantage. He recalled his one real attempt at some serious romance with Bonnie. A nice, quiet little meadow out in the woods, some fizzy drinks and sandwiches – Shard had planned things most carefully. But his face wasn't built like a human's, most especially his mouth and his lips.

They had figured out _how _to kiss, but Bonnie also found that his whiskers tickled and that no matter how much she liked him, it felt to her like she was making out with a cat; Which just seemed wrong. It got awkward rather rapidly. Fortunately, just when Shard was on the verge of complete humiliation and despair, Bonnie's naturally kind and bubbly personality came to the rescue and the entire thing turned into an extended tickle fight and their friendship hadn't suffered.

Shard reached his hand up and lifted the little red name-plate necklace and looked down at it. Reading the characters was no problem at all now: "My name is Shard. I am a Dosadi. I live at 2230 Back Lane, Reeth, Yorkshire Dales" Home. He didn't need the necklace any more, by any stretch of the imagination. He had learned Standard quickly, and fairly well; The other children had been more than happy to help him learn the slang of his generation. His parents were struggling to learn Dosadi and trying to keep his skills up there; yet another thing he was grateful for. However, his mother had commented that she was finding Dosadi easier to understand than the slang he brought home from school.

He was as thankful as any boy had ever been for the good things he had, and nothing would ever change that. But just at this moment, he was also very much an early teen and he was moping: A skill that every mammalian adolescent had, no matter the species.

Carol took another sip of her tea. "Josef, he's nearly fourteen now. It's pretty normal for teenagers to be out roaming around. He's not going to run off back to the woods, you know."

"I know. I just worry about...well, where he's at, what he's up to. I remember being fourteen, it's not an easy age. It's easy to fall in with the wrong crowd, start experimenting with drugs or...well...sex."

She tried not to smile. "Not a lot of Dosadi girls running about here, Josef."

"No, and he doesn't seem terribly interested in much of anything to do with any there might be. I mentioned there's some sort of cat-people that live near Leyburn and that we might think about going to see what they were all about and I swear his tail puffed up at me."

"That's not too surprising. Whatever memories he's got of Dosad aren't pleasant ones, dear. He's suppressed them pretty thoroughly. And he seems to do all right with making friends. He's got lots of friends who are girls."

Josef cleared his throat. "Well, yes. But well, Dosadi start puberty about 10 or so on average. So he's about four years into it by now; His fur's got almost entirely adult coloring now, and he's got less of that gangly look. He's really starting to pack on some muscle now. They're adults at about 16 in their culture, you know. How's that going to work for him?"

"Well, we're raising him human, not Dosadi. So he'll be an adult at 18."

"Not physically. Not emotionally. You've read the same books that I have, luv. By now he should have a tight group of friends that he's starting to look around at for a mate. A permanent partner."

She cocked an eyebrow at him over her cup. "And what would you call all those kids he hangs around with now?"

"It's not the same and you know it. And what if he's...well...experimenting."

"Like any teenager? Like we did? At least he won't have to worry about an unintended pregnancy." she grinned.

"You're not being helpful, dear."

"And you're being an old prude." She laughed. "I'd never have imagined it! I haven't seen you this uncomfortable since you sat him down for The Talk." she grinned evilly.

He shifted in his chair. "Well, it's a bit different when it's _your_ son. It's a lot easier to advise another adult on how to approach the topic."

She rolled her eyes. "I still don't understand the concern here, Josef."

"I don't want him to get hurt. Or be lonely. And teenagers can be cruel, especially when you look different. I still wish there had been something I could have done about that leg. That limp still worries me."

Smiling she said, "Don't change the subject dear, especially when you brought it up. The leg doesn't slow him down much at all. So what do you want to do about the girls situation? Find some Dosadi girls somewhere? Force him to face his past and his own people?"

"I don't know." he frowned. "I really don't. Just pointless worry, I guess. It's not like puberty's fatal."

She put her hand on his. "No, it's not. But you're right to worry."

"I am? Why?"

"Because he's your son." She squeezed his hand gently. "We might not have been able to have had one of our own, together, but you've made a wonderful father. Look at how far that boy has come since you found him and brought him home. We could vanish tonight and he'd be able to make it now."

He turned his hand up and held hers tightly. "Let's not test that, hmmm?" and he laughed.


	12. Chapter 11

_**CHAPTER 11**_

"_Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought."_

_- Matsuo Basho_

_**MCKINLEY STATION, EARTH ORBIT**_

_**MAY 2359**_

Fifteen year-old Shard was in heaven – literally; At least from a classical point of view. He was walking down the corridor that led from McKinley Station's main spaces to the docking ring. His parents, in Starfleet uniform, walked just ahead of him. His head was on a swivel, tracking from the spectacular views of Earth to his parents, to the interior of the station to ... _Everything!_ The last time had had been in space had been aboard a freighter and he had very few chances to see much; especially not Earth itself. And much of his memories from that time had been lost or confused in the intervening years.

Carol turned her head and reminded her son, "Now, Shard, remember, we'll be on duty most of the time during this little trip, all right? You'll be expected to behave."

"Yes, Mom. I promise. Will there be windows? I can catch any rats too! I was really good at that the one time I was on a space ship. I'm a little bigger now though, of course."

Carol thought to herself, _"What is with this kid and rats?!" _but it was a humorous thought. "Yes, and no." she chuckled. "The _Black Forest_ doesn't exactly have a problem with rodents; She's not a freighter. And there are windows all over."

Josef smiled as well. "You're not going to be expected to work off your passage, Shard. We were lucky that our Reserve obligation time was short this year and that it coincided with your school break. And it'll be good for you to see how Starfleet works on a day-to-day basis. Well, at least for one two week survey mission."

Carol contributed "And it's nice that we can do it at the same time this year, Josef. And Shard, it'll be good especially if you're still thinking of trying for the Academy."

Still walking along, Josef commented "Though, son, I'd still prefer to see you go through Cambridge or Edinburgh and get your MD first, _then_ go through the Academy. And only then if it's truly something you want to do. The Academy entrance exam is very, very difficult. Some people study their entire lives to prepare for it and still don't make it. And there's more to it than just academics. There's physical and psychological and any number of other things as well."

Shard thought about that for a few paces. "I've learned a lot in the last few years, Dad. You've both taught me so much more than just what they teach in school, plus what I've learned on my own. And yes, it's what I want to do. You've shown me it's important to serve others, to give back, and to learn and explore at the same time. I want to be like you both. It's the _right_ thing to do."

Carol and Josef smiled at each other and held hands as they walked. Raising Shard had been a treat. There was little left of the shattered, beaten, starved creature Josef had brought home. Instead, a nearly five foot tall, well-muscled and distinctively marked young man walked along behind them, his every feature a study in curiosity and a readiness to make his mark in the galaxy.

_**USS BLACK FOREST, ALPHA QUADRANT, UNDER WAY**_

_**JUNE 2359**_

The turbo-lift doors split open in front of him and Shard stepped out onto the _Oberth_-Class starship's bridge. With only a shade of the shyness and hesitation he had before his adoption, Shard looked at the ship's Captain, a human named Commander Holiday. The man looked at Shard – almost glaring.

"So. _You're _the one responsible." he stated.

Shard took a quick glance at each of his parents, standing easily behind the Captain's central chair. No one looked angry, and the scents on the bridge didn't seem like he was in trouble. But he was going to mind his manners. He knew a fair amount about Starfleet discipline and protocols from his parents and from reading the manuals that they had. He came to attention, locked his eyes forward and said, "Responsible for what, sir?"

'Happy Jack' Holiday thought to himself, _"All right, boy. Not bad. Let's see how you do with a little more...personal attention."_ He stood up, walked over to the boy and got chest-to-nose with the foot-and-more-shorter Dosadi. He looked down at him, inspecting him, then slowly walked around him, looking for any flaw. Of course, since the kid was wearing civilian clothing – a pair of battle dress pants and a sleeveless snug t-shirt, there wasn't anything he could really find wrong. He had even remembered to pull on the soft, leather boots that felinoids preferred; At least when they couldn't get away with bare feet. "So. You deny it then?" he asked sternly.

They were a week into their mission and Shard couldn't think of anything he'd done to get in trouble. He'd been allowed to help his parents out in the small ship's Sick Bay, but he hadn't done anything wrong. They didn't look like they were in trouble. What was he asking? "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be responsible for, sir?" He asked, eyes still locked on the big, main view-screen. The scents coming from the rest of the bridge crew were very up-beat. Was he teasing?

Holiday took a deep breath and glowered down. The kid was doing well maintaining a military bearing even though he was completely confused. "For costing me two of my best officers!"

Shard tried to think quickly. Had something he'd done in Sick Bay gone wrong?

"And almost my entire sick bay staff!" And then he laughed. "They were supposed to go Reserve for a year to try for a baby, play country doctor for a while, then come back to duty. Spend the next five years raising the child aboard, _then_ go to the Reserves. Instead, they skip the whole baby phase and go right to a little boy."

_Now_ Shard got it. He was teasing him. Humor, he could do. "Aye, sir! My parents have always been very efficient. No sense wasting time when you can get a head start!"

Holiday lost it and burst out with a loud laugh. "Not bad, kid. What's your name?"

"Shard, sir."

"I understand you've been helping out down in Sick Bay?"

"Aye, sir. I've helped both of my parents out on calls for years. I'm especially good with the younger children."

He glanced over his shoulder, "That true, Lieutenants?"

His father answered, "Yes, sir. He's a fair hand with a wound sealer too, under direction."

"Certification?" he asked Josef.

"EMT-B, sir. Just finished it six months ago, Dosadi mature faster than humans, he's in a bit of a grey area. He's almost an adult in their culture, age-wise."

"Well, we can't have a civilian running about the ship performing duties aboard!" That was a lie, of course. Civilians – contractors – worked aboard Starfleet vessels fairly commonly. "Shard, for the next week, I grant you a brevet rank of Crewman. That is, if you're interested in taking a swing at it. I'll rate you a Corpsman's Mate and let you get some actual experience in Starfleet. Your parents have told me that you're angling for a slot at the Academy. This will help with that."

Shard's spine snapped even straighter. "Yes, SIR!"

"You'll be expected to adhere to all regulations and discipline, though Shard. Just like any other crewman. You ready for that?"

"Yes, SIR!"

"So, explain to me Shard, why the Federation is sending a ship to survey an area deep within the Federation? Why aren't we out on the borders where we should be?"

Shard grinned. He knew this one. "Because sir, space is not static. It is important to validate proper-motion and verify that beacons and markers are still in their proper place. It's a normal duty for ships in for rest, refit, or crew replacement."

"You smiling at me, Crewman?"

Shard wiped the smile off his face, but not before noticing that both his parents had big grins. "No sir! Just a twitch, sir." He'd seen enough entertainments to know _that _one too.

"I think you'll do, Crewman. Just remember, this all goes on your permanent record with Starfleet. This is a real brevet appointment and your performance will be considered when you apply."

"Yes, sir." Shard kept himself still and his eyes focused on the view-screen, but in reality he wanted to jump across the bridge and scream for joy.

"And some advice, Crewman?"

"Yes please, sir."

"If you don't make it into the Academy, go enlisted. You can prove your worth in the ranks, then either go for an appointment from there, or if you're good enough, get a direct commission by your Captain. It happens often enough. And the crew respect an officer with experience within the ranks."

"Thank you sir!" Shard wasn't worried. He'd be an officer, just like his parents. But for right now – he was really in Starfleet. He remembered that Selenda had been in Starfleet too. That had helped somehow when they came to Earth.

_**REETH, YORKSHIRE DALES, ENGLAND, EARTH**_

_**NOVEMBER 2360**_

Lieutenant (J.G.) Dr. Josef Hunter, Starfleet Reserves turned to his son, while straightening his uniform. "Shard, are you _sure_ you're going to be okay while we're gone? It's two months, that's a long time to be on your own. And we're missing your birthday besides."

"Dad, I'm almost seventeen. If I were on Dosad, I'd be taking my ritual tests for adulthood, bad leg or no." He slapped his leg. "I just wish I could go with you. Commander Holiday was wonderful. And we celebrated that last week. The date doesn't matter. We sort of made it up anyways." he grinned.

His father cuffed him gently. "Go along? With exams coming up? With your Junior Project due? Shard, you can't take two months off of school, especially not now. And that's a long time to leave the house empty besides."

"Yeah, but a survey mission to the _Badlands_?! That's going to be amazing! Think of what I could learn! Think how much experience I'd get for my Academy application!"

Carol came in, dropping her jump bag on the floor. "No, Shard. Much as we'd love to have you along, you've got too much going on here at home. And you can hold down the fort with our patients' basic needs."

"Yes, Mom." he sighed.

Josef cautioned him, "Don't get crazy though, Shard. Stay within your scope – anything outside of that and you either call a transporter beam or transport, right? We've let them all know you're here and available."

"Yes, Dad. I know better than that. I'll do the right thing."

Carol knelt down and hugged her son. "You always do, Shard. We're so proud of you."

He hugged her back. "I love you, Mom." then he moved on to his father, hugging him as well, but neither of them saying a word. Shard watched his parents collect their gear and load it up in the APV that would take them to the transit station. They turned and waved, smiling, and he waved back, finally turning to return to his home as they were carried out of sight.

He sat back down at his father's desk and returned to his studies. Just for a moment, he looked again at his red name tag. Even after almost seven years, it was still in good shape. And even though he knew it was silly, it still comforted him every time he read it: "I live at 2230 Back Lane, Reeth, Yorkshire Dales" He let the tag drop back on it's chain with a clink and returned to his studies.

When he went upstairs to his room, he looked around. The house was silent. Ted E. Bear was perched on the headboard to his bed, and the little leather bag of marbles was sitting on top of his dresser. His flute was on its stand in the corner. He realized that this would be the longest he had been alone since Josef had found him, and was then struck by the realization of exactly how much his parents had re-ordered their lives for him.

He began to walk through the house, seeing it with very different eyes. Not the eyes of a terrified and lonely child. Not even the eyes of a youngster moving through his home. Instead, he was seeing them with the eyes of a young man on the verge of heading out into the world, finally comprehending what had been done for him – and with a deeper understanding of why.

He walked into his parents' room and ran his hand along the bed-spread, smoothing it slightly. The room was rich with their scents and said 'home' to him more emphatically than anything else. He made a tour of the whole house, touching, smelling, looking, listening. In the entryway were a series of photographs – tri-d images of the three of them covering the last seven years, including some school photos. He was startled at the contrast between the most recent image and that of his ten year-old self. The frightened, haunted look he had in his eyes, the gaunt build, the dull fur. What had possessed dad to save him and bring him home? Why would the human being in that photograph want to do that for a half-starved cat-person? And the woman next to him – who had patiently held him through every crying fit, every terror, every nightmare and flashback. Was love really strong enough to do that?

_"How do you repay that?"_ he wondered to himself. He could possibly understand it had he been their own child, their own genes. But he wasn't even the same species, not even from the same planet. He was an alien. He reached his hand up and very gently ran his finger across the surface of the tri-d image from so long ago. And as though it were a touchstone, it triggered the answer in his mind: "_By living a life of honor. By always doing the right thing. By being someone they will be proud of, always."_

He went back upstairs and got into his bed, curled up and slept soundly – a long, six-hour stretch. He was home, after all.

_**REETH, YORKSHIRE DALES, ENGLAND, EARTH**_

_**JANUARY 2360**_

When the door chimed, Shard had a feeling he knew who it was, and why. There had been no notes from his parents for nearly three weeks; two weeks past when they were supposed to return. Inquiries to Starfleet had only resulted in polite suggestions that he be patient and that ships were often overdue for a variety of reasons. When he opened the door, his heart sank into his toes. Standing there was his father's best friend, Lieutenant Carl Miller and a chaplain he didn't recognize. Ears drooping, tail on the floor he asked politely, "Won't you both please come in?"

Miller and the chaplain looked at each other briefly then came inside. Shard showed them to the front room and invited them to sit, offered them tea, and when they refused, sat down himself. "I know why you're here."

Miller tried to start off, "Shard, they don't really know..."

He looked up and, did something he almost never did - Interrupted someone else. "Sir, they're gone. That's how my life goes. People who love me, my friends, they all die. It's just how things work."

"That's not true, Shard. I've known you since you were a half-starved bit of flea-bitten fur; I'm not dead. Your school mates aren't dead. And you've had nothing but good luck since you came here."

The chaplain also tried, "Yes, son, we can't know what plans the divine have for us. Your parents loved you very much; There's no reason to abandon all hope. They're simply listed as missing right now. We just wanted to come and talk to you. Give you some options."

At that, Shard actually smiled. "Did you think I was going to run off to the woods again?"

Miller grinned back. "Well, your dad and I talked about that a long time ago. He told me a bit about what you'd been through and he wanted to make sure if anything ever happened, that I'd step up."

"Is that why you're here, sir?"

"Well, I wanted you to hear it from someone you knew, a friend, and to let you know that you're always welcome with us, Shard." He thought back to when he had meet the boy. Barely a month after Josef had brought him home, he was still a skittish, thin, and uncertain little boy. Hunter had taken him to visit Miller's sub-space astrophysics lab in Finland, to show him some of the wonders of the universe. To show him that there was something more than just sadness, loss, and pain.

Shard raised his chin. "I appreciate that, a lot, sir. But I've got options."

The chaplain, concerned, asked quickly, "And what are those, son?"

"I'm an adult, by age, according to my species and I can graduate from school early – I've more than met the requirements. I'm going to join Starfleet, go to the Academy, and I'll find them; if they're out there. If not, I'll carry on what they were doing."

Still concerned he continued, "You're taking this awfully well, son."

"Yes, sir. As I said, part of me has always been ready for them to die. They were a dream come true. My life since they saved me has been fantastic. Beyond anything I ever even hoped for. I guess now it's time to get back to reality. Maybe I'll find them. But, I'll never _lose_ them." he put his hand over his chest. "They're _here_. Nothing and no one will ever take them from me."

Miller, impressed, asked him, "What about the house, Shard?"

Shard smiled again, and lifted his little red name tag. He looked down at it and read aloud, "My name is Shard. I live at 2230 Back Lane, Reeth, Yorkshire Dales" Then he looked at Miller and the chaplain again. "I have to have someplace to come _home_ to when I'm not on duty, right?"

The Lieutenant grinned, "That's a long time to leave it empty, Shard. But I've got an idea."

"What's that, sir?"

"My nephew's about your age, Shard. He's going to Uni up at Middlesbrough. Would you let him stay here to keep the place up while you're away at the Academy or on fleet duty?"

"That would be fine, sir."

The chaplain tried again. "I'm still shocked at how well you're taking this, young man."

Shard grinned at Miller, "My parents wouldn't want me to be like I was. I'm not going to be. I'll look for them. And I'll do what they would want me to: Live. I owe them that, and more than I can ever say."

Miller said, "You'll need a letter recommending you for the entrance exam, Shard. I just happen to have one here..."

Shard smiled again. "I'll add that to the two from my parents, and Commander Holiday, sir."

_**STAR FLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH**_

_**MARCH 2360**_

Shard walked out of the admin offices, stunned. He had a single piece of paper in his hand, slightly crumpled. His face and body language shifted from crushed to angry to confused and back again in a rapid cycle as he walked, shuffling and somewhat aimlessly – toward the road out of campus.

"Yo, what's up there son?" he heard a voice.

Shard did a stutter-step, stopped, and looked up. "What?"

"You look like someone took your favorite ball of yarn." When Shard's ears flipped backwards the speaker held his hands up, "Sorry! Just tryin' to break the ice! Get turned down?"

He looked at the speaker. He was obviously an incredibly fit human, maybe mid-30's, close-cropped blond hair, blue eyes, and a friendly smile. He was wearing dark green trousers and a tight-fitting khaki dress shirt. "What business is that of yours, sir?" Shard asked, perhaps a little sharply.

The man grinned at him. "You don't call me 'sir', son, I work for a living." then he held his hand out, "Sergeant First Class Jim Wilcox. Starfleet Marine Corps."

Shard knew this gesture well and shook his hand. "Okay, Sergeant. I don't mean to be rude, but what do you care?"

"Hey, let's get some coffee and I'll tell you why I care; sound like a plan?"

Shard agreed and while they were sitting in a nearby coffee shop, the man finally got to the point. "So why try for the Academy?"

Shard was a little puzzled. "I want to go into Starfleet. My parents were both officers." Without intending to, he continued, "They're missing."

"Missing?" he took a sip of his coffee. "What ship?"

"The _USS Black Forest_."

"Ahhhh." he nodded. "That's a hard one. Badlands. Probably the Cardassians."

"I want to go look for them, but more I want to do what they did. Explore. Learn."

"Why go officer? Hell, why go 'Fleet at all?"

Puzzled, Shard asked, "What else is there?"

Smiling, the man slapped his chest. "There's a service that's custom designed for strong young men like you. Men with drive, and honor, and spirit. The Marines. And believe me, enlisted is the way to go; Officers get all the press, but it's the Non-Coms who make it happen, son. You want to lead men? You want to be the one getting the job done? You want to be enlisted. If you want to wave a baton and just watch other people do what you came up with, that's an officer. But you, you look like a man who likes to be part of the action. Not some fancy-pants – no insult intended to your parents, son." he quickly corrected himself and stopped there.

Shard thought about it. Happy Jack Holiday had advised him to go enlisted if he had any trouble with the Academy. But the Marines?

"Can I see that paper, son? Trust me, I've seen plenty. I just want to see their reasons."

Shard shrugged and handed it over.

Reading aloud, "Physical disability, right leg: Irreparable. Deep seated unresolved loss issues. Mild persecution complex. Memory loss/confusion. Test scores include sub-par scores in theoretical sub-space physics and n-dimensional vector field calculus. Superior scores in language, medicine, and general science. REJECTED." He looked at Shard. "That's a harsh word, isn't it?"

He didn't say anything, studying the Marine.

"Makes you feel about this tall, doesn't it?" he held his thumb and finger about an inch apart. "I could sign you up as a crewman and have you on your way to Boot Camp and being a Marine Corpsman in about two hours. Physical disability." He snorted. "We can work with that."

"What about joining Starfleet as Enlisted?"

Wilcox looked hurt. "After what they just did to you, you'd still want to go 'Fleet?"

Shard smiled, it felt good after the rejection. "Yes, Sergeant. I'd rather explore than just fight. If they're sending the Marines, things have already gone pear shaped."

Wilcox smiled back, "Well, there is that. I'll give you my Comm code though, son – Once you're in 'Fleet and get bored to tears, you call me. We can transfer you; You'll have to go through Boot Camp though; Starfleet Basic doesn't cut it. We do it right. Come on, boy. Let's get you started on making your life an adventure."

_**LEWIS-MCCHORD FACILITY, SEA-TAC, EARTH**_

_**APRIL 2360**_

Basic Training hasn't changed much in over half a millennia; The purpose remains the same – to take a mob of unruly civilians, each with their own idea of how to run their lives and what to do, into an organized team able to follow directions under incredibly high stress. The same methods that were used to break down an individual in the 1700's work just as well today. And in some cases, even in the same places. Lewis-McChord Facility has been a training station for over 400 years.

As the platoon jogged down the dirt path, the Drill Sergeant calling the cadence, recruit Saad al-Fakeeh was watching Shard. In a low voice, so as to escape the notice of their instructor, he said, "I swear to Allah, you enjoy this."

Shard grinned back. Despite the limp, he was able to keep up fairly easily. He let his eyes roam across the beautiful pine woods, Mt. Rainier making a spectacular backdrop. The rich scents of the woods were teasing his nose and the weather was perfect today. "What's not to like?"

"You're a glutton for punishment."

"This isn't punishment. This is _easy_. I get fed more than I can eat, I've got a soft bed, friends, and..."

The Drill Sergeant bellowed out, "HUNTER! AL-FAKEEH! ORBITAL RUN! NOW!"

They both answered in unison, "MOVING, DRILL SERGEANT!" and began to run loops around the formation as it jogged along. That took enough wind and caused enough attention that they weren't going to be chatting any more.

That evening they were sitting around their barracks, cleaning equipment and just bullshitting like young recruits have done since the first group of people decided to become an army. Shard had struggled to adapt his sleep schedule to match Starfleet's training routines; This was a human base with human standards and sleep was emphatically _not _allowed outside of night-time hours. But, he managed.

Saad asked him, "You don't feel weird being the only alien in the whole division?"

"Nope. I've been the only alien anywhere most of my life. And there are benefits." One of the female recruits walked past and scratched along his head.

"Hey, Hunter."

He grinned at Saad and said over his shoulder. "Hey, Edwards." Then turning back to Saad continued, "Women, they can't resist the fur." and winked.

Saad snorted. "So, come on, what's your story? You haven't told anyone anything much."

"No story. Parents were Starfleet, so I'm going to be too. Hoping to make officer. Going to be a doctor."

"Yeah, we got that."

Edwards came back and plopped down next to them and started cleaning some of her gear. "Why the big mystery anyway, Hunter?"

"It's not a mystery. I just don't want people getting too close. Bad things happen to people who get close to me. I'm kinda broken anyway, it's why I didn't get into the Academy."

Johnson, A tall black man from Colorado waggled his fingers at Shard, "oooo! Bad JuJu!" and laughed.

Shard shrugged. "Bad something. Why take chances? What, I can't be friends without us all taking long walks together on the beach in the moonlight?"

Mary Beth Edwards was just about Shard's height with what should have been lustrous, long, black hair; except she shaved her head bald just to make a point. Everyone had nicknamed her 'Hard Core' – and she lived up to that. "Did you have friends back at home?"

Shard thought back to the two days that Starfleet had given him to wrap things up back in Reeth before he shipped out and smiled. Conan, Bonnie, Robby, and Gordon had given him a bit of a going-away party at a local pub. And Bonnie had given him a _very_ nice kiss; nice enough to elicit a cheer from the folks in the pub. "Yup."

There was silence for a few moments then Saad shook his head. "Really? Just 'yup'? That's it?"

"Yup."

Edwards laughed again, "Asshole." and she tugged on his tail.

"Mew." he winked at her and curled that tail around her hips.

There was another pause for a few minutes then Saad asked him, "The physical part of this seems really easy for you, even with the bad leg. You max every test. It's not really fair to the rest of us."

Shard shrugged. "Not much I can do about it. Dosadi have some physical advantages. What do you want me to do, slack off?"

Edwards supported him, "Hell no. We'll get Honor Platoon with your PT scores and all of our shooting. That means extra privs." She looked him up and down, "How you think you'll do in SEAR this next week?"

SEAR – Survival, Escape And Resistance training was widely rumored to be brutal. Designed to teach recruits how to survive when disaster struck and they were separated from their ship, or their unit and how to resist interrogation and torture;. You had to pass it – not just physically, but psychologically – to graduate. Starfleet threw it in the middle of Basic Training so that recruits had a fair amount of training under their belts, but not so much that it would be a waste if they were unable to deal with the stress.

Shard tried not to smile. "I think I'll do OK. It really doesn't sound too bad."

Johnson, who had grown up in Denver, stared at him. "They dump you in the woods in your underwear, at night, with nothing, and give you twelve hours head start then send Security trainees out to find you. If they catch you, they spend two days interrogating you and then you start over. And no matter what, you get to spend the _last_ two days being interrogated and tortured. And that doesn't sound too bad to you?"

"Who needs underwear?" Shard asked with a big smile, fluffing his fur. At that, all three of his friends jumped on him and worked to pin the faster, stronger, felinoid. It took a bit, but finally they had him held down, arms and one leg wrapped up while his tail lashed.

Edwards started rubbing all his fur the wrong way, being rewarded with a loud yowl just in time for the Drill Sergeant to walk in. "Knock that shit off!" he shouted. "Toe the line in two minutes! You children better study like hell the rest of this week because _next _week it gets serious!"

_**BANF NATIONAL PARK, ALBERTA, NORTH AMERICAN DISTRICT**_

_**APRIL 2360**_

The weather was _perfect_. A light rain, grey overcast, and the temperature was about 6 degrees (43 F) as the sun set behind him. Shard yawned. He was four days into the SEAR test and was loving every minute of it. He shook his head and fluffed his fur against the slight chill in the air. He was draped on a branch half-way up a lodgepole pine tree watching three Security troops trying to sneak through the forest. They were clearly _not_ experienced woodsmen.

They had a basic scanner, but that just let them know where he was within a very broad area. Well, it let them know that _someone_ was present within a very broad area. They were a fire team from the company that was scattered about and hunting his platoon. No one had thought to tell them that one of the recruits was a Dosadi, much less what one looked like. Not that any of them had caught sight of Shard yet anyway.

He was treating it as something of a vacation. He could sleep when he wanted to, the hunting was ridiculously easy, the weather fine, and the only real scare he had was when a wolverine had decided to argue with him over a beaver he had killed. He let the wolverine have it; The thing was _creepy_. And had a bad attitude besides. He lay his chin on his crossed hands and watched the two men and one woman crunch their way through the underbrush, making enough noise that everything in the forest for half a mile knew where they were.

_**STARFLEET MONITORING CENTER, BANF NATIONAL PARK**_

"Oh _come on!_" the Security instructor raged. "He's right fucking _there! _Open your god-damn eyes!"

The SEAR range master laughed, "That'll teach them to make assumptions about what they're looking for."

"Christ! The damn sensor's screaming! They've _got_ to know he's close! Wake UP!" he threw his hands up as they walked under Shard's branch – the instructors' drone was giving them a beautiful view of Shard's amused expression as he watched them continue past. "I am going to run them until they _die_!" the man stomped over to a chair and threw himself into it.

"You know, I think he's actually _gained_ weight..."

_**BANF NATIONAL PARK, ALBERTA, NORTH AMERICAN DISTRICT**_

__Shard decided he was going to have a little fun. Vacation was nice and all, but you needed to focus on the work too. Once the Security team had gone by, he finished the last bit of ground squirrel he had been snacking on, and stashed what was left. If he needed to, he could come back for the hide and the bones. He quickly made his way down to the ground and keeping low, followed his nose.

It didn't take him long to catch up to the three.

The taller male was holding the scanner and looking at it with a puzzled expression. In the failing light, human vision was very weak while Shard's was having no difficulty at all. "I think the damn thing's busted." he said.

The woman said, "Let me see it. I've done some tech work..." And took it and began making adjustments.

"It's busted. It's said he's within the nearest circle for the last two miles. Either it's picking up Pyscho over there, or it's busted."

The smaller man just grinned. "Keep calling me Psycho and we'll just see if I really am."

"Whatever. Make yourself useful and see if you can find someplace for us to camp for a couple hours. We can take turns and each get an hour and go find Mr. Hunter while he's asleep."

"Yah, in a minute. I gotta piss."

"Try not to get it on your shoes this time." the woman said amiably while she was tinkering with their sensor.

"Fuck off." Psycho said and made his way towards the underbrush and some privacy.

Twenty minutes later, his friends were becoming concerned. "Hey! Psycho! You fall in? Snake get you?" the tall man called, getting no answer. Then the woman started calling too.

The two of them teamed up to search for him – their useless sensor still telling them that Shard was right on top of them – and found nothing.

"What the hell?" the man asked. "He get lost? If a bear got him, he'd scream, right?"

"Idiot, he'd shoot it with his phaser."

"Then where the hell _is_ he?"

Shard tried not to smile _too _much. He was back up in a large maple tree and fairly well concealed. Which was good, because 'Psycho' was next to him, leaned on the trunk, his feet bound by his own trousers, his arms and hands tied together with his uniform shirt, and his underwear over his face, blinding him. Shard held the hand phaser up and took careful aim at the two still hunting him. He briefly thought about how nice it would have been to have had _that_ the last time people were hunting him.

Then he tripped the 'discharge' button and waited for the power-pack to drain completely and tucked the useless hunk of metal and plastic into his unconscious prisoner's trousers.

_**STARFLEET MONITORING CENTER, BANF NATIONAL PARK**_

"That's it, that's going too far. Get that damn'd cat back here right now." the Security instructor demanded.

The range master just laughed again. "He didn't hurt him, much, and he _did_ trigger his retrieval beacon. That's well within the bounds of this range – we teach them self-defense for a reason. If your troop didn't want to be a 'redshirt', he should've paid a bit more attention and not wandered off on his own. Hell, the recruit didn't even keep your boy's phaser."

"You're going to let him get away with that? He stripped him naked, pulled his damn jockey's over his head and left him up a _tree!"_

The other man shrugged. "Nothing in it against the rules. Once his teammates are far enough away, we'll transport him back and you can send him out again. Maybe with clean underwear though. I'll admit that part was a bit nasty."

_**BANF NATIONAL PARK, ALBERTA, NORTH AMERICAN DISTRICT**_

The sun had set, and the two Security troopers had decided to rely on their hand-lights. Shard shook his head at that. All that did was ruin their night vision. He got down on all fours and slunk silently, and very, very slowly through the underbrush towards where the two troopers were still trying to make their sensor work. And all it was doing was telling them that he was close. Which, since the disappearance of their friend, wasn't helping their nerves any.

Both of them were starting at every noise, jumping at shadows, and both had nearly shot the other several times; And it wasn't even 2100 hrs yet. After watching them for a few minutes, Shard decided to have a little more fun. He padded off about 20 meters and let out with a loud scream. An instant later, two phaser shots lanced off into the night – nowhere near where he was.

"What the hell was _that?!_" the man yelled.

"Jesus, that was the freakiest sound I've ever heard."

"Maybe it was Psycho...maybe something's eating him."

"No way. Why would it wait this long?"

"I dunno. Maybe it was playing with him or something. Like a cat with a mouse."

"We gotta find this asshole, shoot him and get the hell out of here."

"Yeah...or just get the hell out of here."

By now, Shard was back at the edge of the little meadow they were standing in. He lay down flat on his belly, his head on his hands again and just enjoyed watching them freak each other out more and more. Finally, he had what he wanted. The man was facing away from him, and the woman was looking off to the side, just between them.

He gathered himself up and, staying low ran at full-tilt into the woman, knocking her phaser away into the night, then slamming into the back of the man's legs, grabbing his calves and picking him up over his shoulder and running into the woods while his victim screamed like an eight year-old girl.

For the woman, it was worse when the screaming stopped.

_**STARFLEET MONITORING CENTER, BANF**_

The range master was laughing. "Oh, this is priceless. This is just too good." Neither man had wanted to go home until this bit of drama played out. The outcome wasn't in doubt; The only question was how Shard would finish them off; Which was rather unusual, of course. The night-shift monitors were quietly placing some bets on how long the woman would last.

The Security instructor was fuming. "I am going to _enjoy_ interrogating that damn cat."

"Just don't get carried away, Shaun."

"Screw that."

They watched as Shard again stripped the poor man naked, using his claws and tearing his clothing into long, twisted strips of tough cloth. This time he tied him to a tree, upright, again with his underwear over his eyes. And then Shard climbed up the tree again and waited.

_**BANF NATIONAL PARK, ALBERTA, NORTH AMERICAN DISTRICT**_

__It was after two in the morning when the man's calls for help brought results. His friend was no dummy though and she approached very, very cautiously. Shard had remained silent – there were plenty of other strange noises in the woods at night for the woman to be afraid of. He relaxed on his branch, watching her move as carefully as she could, phaser at the ready, hand-light flashing across the underbrush. She had at least abandoned the useless sensor.

She got close to her friend and, satisfied that Recruit Hunter was nowhere near, straightened up and tried not to chuckle. Even once she got around to untying him his clothes were torn into strips, so he'd be going back nude. And the underwear over his head was just the icing on the cake.

She whispered, "I see you're definitely _not_ the big man on campus." and she giggled.

"Shut the fuck up and get me loose!"

Which was when Shard dropped on her. Any Earth cougar would have been proud of the pounce.

_**STARFLEET MONITORING CENTER, BANF**_

__"There! That's sexual assault!" the Security instructor yelled, pointing at the monitor screen. Shard had trussed the woman up to the tree much as he had her companion. Courteously, he left her underwear on, however. But he _had_ stolen a kiss when she woke up.

The two men watched the light-enhanced view from the drone:

Her eyes had opened up and she almost screamed. Had Shard not been standing upright, she would've thought he was a wild animal. "What the fuck _are _you?!" she asked.

"I'm a Dosadi." he had said with a smile. "And you're a human, and he's an idiot. But that's not important right now."

"Un-tie me, asshole. You're under arrest." She was shivering in the cold – as night fell, the temperature had dropped to freezing.

Shard laughed. He drained both their phaser power-packs and chucked them at their feet. "I tripped your beacons so they'll know to come and get you." he cocked his head at her. "Don't you want to know what's important?"

"Fine, what's important?" Her teeth were chattering.

"That I'm _not_ an asshole." He leaned in and kissed her soundly. "I'll leave so they can get you out of here before you get too cold. Your other friend's already been retrieved. Idiot over here's gonna be blue though; you took a long time getting here. I had to come down and warm him up twice." He pouted. "I don't think he _likes _cuddling." He smiled and vanished into the brush. "Welcome to Sherwood!" he called out into the dark.

If she got the reference, she made no sign.

After Shard had left, the range master ordered their retrievals and said, "That wasn't sexual assault. The kid stole a kiss. I'm pretty sure she'll survive it. At least he left _her_ underwear on."

The other instructor wasn't mollified. "In less than forty-eight hours that little prick is _mine_. Then we'll see how smart he is."

_**STARFLEET MONITORING CENTER, BANF**_

_**APRIL 2360**_

Captain Cox continued his report. Several images of the recruit in question were flashing by on the screen as he talked. "Even after being re-released into the exercise area, he was quickly recaptured. Seems to be unable to force himself to eat available, if unpalatable foods. Very low evasion rating. Very low survival rating. Did quite poorly in the interrogation sessions as well. Recommendation from the psych team is recycle." He looked up. Anyone disagree? He shows potential, if we give him a month's hard training on SEAR, then recycle him through Basic, I think we can salvage him. Anyone want to make the case for passing him or ejecting him?

He scanned the faces at the table and seeing no further discussion closed the file on his PADD and swiped it into a 'RECYCLE' folder. An instant after he swiped the next recruit up there were a number of chuckles and a few outright laughs. He glanced up and grinned. There was an overhead enhanced vision shot of Shard kissing the young woman while her partner was tied naked on the other side of the tree, his underwear covering his head. The Captain cleared his throat to bring people back to the point and began to read. "Recruit Sharden Hunter." As the photos cycled through there were a few more chuckles, which he ignored.

"Exceptional evasion abilities. Exceptional survival abilities. Actually gained nearly two pounds and appeared to treat the entire exercise as something of a lark." he cleared his throat again. "Captured one fire team that was hunting him and um...humiliated them. Successfully evaded the follow-on full squad sent to locate him." There were more laughs and he rolled his eyes as the next photo showed Shard urinating into a water bladder. "Contaminated the water supply of two members of that squad, without their detecting it until it was um, too late. Exceptional resistance to interrogation, including enhanced techniques even when..." he glared at the Security instructor, "Interrogators exceeded range safety limits. Recommendation from the psych team is pass, with a strong caution." he raised his eyebrow at that.

"Anyone want to make the case for recycling hm or ejecting him?"

No one was surprised when the Security instructor spoke. "Yes, I do. This kid never took SEAR seriously and he had a ridiculous set of advantages. None of the teams looking for him were informed that he was an alien. He has fur. He has claws. He's stronger and faster than they are. This wasn't even remotely a fair test."

Another officer spoke up, "It was certainly fair for your trainees. They need to not make assumptions. They need to learn to look up. And they need to stop thinking of themselves as invincible. I think Hunter did you a service by pointing out some serious weak points in your training regimen."

"This wasn't _about_ my boys' training. This is about _his!" _he pointed at the screen, which was Shard's recruit ID photo.

"And what didn't he pass? Stepping back from being pissed off that he totally owned over a dozen of your security trainees and looking at him like an instructor, what could he possibly have done better?"

"He could have taken it seriously instead of pretending to be Robin Hood! He needs to be tested according to his species, not ours!"

"Other felinoids take the same test, to the same standards. Environment is random for each class, just like real life. Sometimes you luck out, sometimes you don't. Your kids had equipment, numbers, sensors, and weapons and he beat them like bongos. Deal with it. Pass him."

A woman wearing medical blue spoke up, "I'm a little concerned as well."

Cox asked her, "Why?"

"There's something odd here. He was rejected from the Academy because of his leg – which he seems well adapted to – and because of some psychological issues that are noted in his file. He treated this entire exercise like it was familiar and normal. _That _worries me. What's lurking back in that brain?" she looked into the eyes of the photograph. "The humor was...okay, yes, it's funny to see the people with all the advantages get humiliated and we all love to root for the underdog. But it's still...well, very childish. A professional would have evaded. I'm leaning towards recycle."

Another officer in Command-gold spoke next. "I disagree. It's a good tactic to sow fear in your enemies. Did you watch those teams talk themselves into being afraid of him? He went from an easy target to a superman in three or four days. I'm reminded of a very old war: The underdog was initially just referred to as letters – V C; Very derogatory, very dehumanizing. Then by the slang term 'Charlie'. Then, 'Victor Charles', using the phonetic spelling. Finally, the defeated side was referring to them as 'Sir Charles'. They used similar terror tactics and won the war, despite losing every battle. I say pass."

Cox mulled it over for a few moments. "Show of hands, please, for eject?" There were none. "Recycle?" Only two hands went up. "Okay, we pass him. Next up..."

_**SAM HOUSTON MEDICAL SCHOOL, TEXAS, NORTH AMERICAN DISTRICT**_

_**JULY 2360**_

There was a fair amount of blood smeared around on the absorbent pads. Shard had both arms stuck out on opposite tables. His ears were drooping, and so were his whiskers. The instructor was walking back and forth and caught sight of Shard's expression. "Oh, suck it up, Crewman Hunter. You're the only fur-bearing person we've got on post at the moment. A few IV's won't hurt you."

"Sir, this isn't a few. These OW! Are numbers 20 and 21. And while I appreciate that my classmates are getting more practice with the wound sealer, it YOWL! Don't dig! Sorry sir, it's just why bother with IVs at all?"

He grinned. "Because, Hunter, you won't always have the fancy gadgets and wonderful little toys and it's important to have _basic_ skills. Because as medics you will either be deep in the shit in combat, or aboard little ships with equipment that fails – and no real staff to repair it. And if you understand how to save lives with nothing, saving lives with fancy toys is easy."

The instructor moved back towards the front of the classroom. "In many ways, you're very much like an old time veterinarian. You don't have the luxury that physicians used to have – you memorized a single anatomy, a single set of proteins and organs and you were set!

"Today, we must be prepared to work on wounded – or sick! - bodies in any one of a dozen shapes. Hominid, Felinoid, Canid, Reptilian, etc. When you graduate this course, you will know more than someone rated 'Doctor' three hundred years ago. Or perhaps I should say _if _you graduate this course. Crewman Jones, where would I find the heart on a Vulcanoid?"

"Upper right abdominal quadrant, proximal, sir."

"I see that smile. Nice to get an easy question isn't it? Well, how would I identify the endocrine system on an unknown species and assess whether or not that system was malfunctioning due to illness?"

He continued to pester the trainee medics with similar questions for some time while they worked, "Hunter, how do you identify a malfunctioning protein production system within the body of an unknown type-II mammal, and in particular, how do you differentiate between the cause being viral vs genetic disorder?"

"Shevchenko, diagram the thoracic cavity of an Andorian type-A male, please."

"Kinning, describe the different effects of Tri-Ox compound on hemoglobin vs hemocyanin."

"Tokugawa, compare and contrast the function of sodium chloride in humans vs Dosadi vs Vulcan. I see that expression. Don't guess. Come next week prepared to present an in-depth summary."

Towards the end of the day he summed up with his usual. "And I will continue to drill this into your heads. In a crisis, you must follow the ABCs: for almost all the forms of life we know, keep their airway open. Keep their blood volume up and pumping. That will give you time to deal with the other issues. And as always..."

At this the entire class spoke in unison, "May I never see in the patient anything but a fellow creature in pain. I will not permit considerations of age, disease or disability, creed, ethnic origin, gender, race, or any other factor to intervene between my duty and my patient; I will maintain the utmost respect for sentient life."

He paused for a moment. "This is your oath, people. Honor it. Live it."

Shard nodded. His father had drilled that oath into his head since he was a child; His father lived it. So did Shard.

The instructor's focus on primitive medicine caught Shard's interest as well. He began to poke his nose into some of the older medical texts available at Sam Houston, and even went so far as to replicate some ancient instruments. Everything from a mortar and pestle to a nice optical microscope, to an early protein sensor.

_**MCKINLEY STATION, EARTH ORBIT**_

_**MARCH 2361**_

Crewman Sharden Hunter thought back three years to the last time he had walked these corridors, on his way to the _USS Black Forest_. The view was still spectacular, but he no longer swiveled his head around like a tourist. Instead, he walked with a purpose, his one-piece black and blue jumpsuit in perfect condition; The open grey diamond of his rank on the collar and a Starfleet combadge affixed to his left breast. The only thing missing was his parents' physical presence.

No matter how calm an outward appearance he maintained, his excitement was growing with every step. Technically, he had real time-in-service and time-in-grade for his one week's duty aboard the _USS Black Forest_, but this was a _real_ posting as a fully qualified medic. The ship he was heading towards – the _USS Paulson_ was a _Higgins-_class Science Scout, with a crew of exactly ten souls. He stopped walking as he caught sight of the ship, docked to the station, through one of the large observation windows.

A glossy-white oblong saucer shape with a single, flat warp-nacelle tucked underneath, looking very much like a ram-scoop with the tail of the nacelle extending beyond the stern of the primary hull. Attached along either side of the saucer were flat, wing-like extensions with sensor pods attached. Her hull had evidence of recent damage, including long scorch-marks down the saucer and repair crews working along the port-aft quarter. Emblazoned in a black arc across the top-forward part of the primary hull were her name and number: _USS PAULSON NCC-41373_. Shard spent a few moments just taking her in – this was _his_ ship. His _first_ ship. His parents and their friends always talked about their first postings with nostalgia – He wondered where he'd be when he was in his thirties and if he would look back the same way at the good old days aboard the _Paulson_. He wondered what the captain was like. If he'd fit in with the crew. What he'd see and do.

"Crewman Hunter, unless you wish to be late reporting for duty, I would recommend that you cease sightseeing and enter the docking module."

Startled, Shard spun around and saw a tall, lean, Vulcan male, also wearing Sciences blue and the single-solid pip of an ensign. "Uh, Sir! Aye aye, sir." He re-seated his jump bag on his shoulder and then after a brief pause asked, "Sir? How did you know my name?"

The Vulcan looked at him coolly. "You are a Dosadi, wearing Crewman's rank and a Sciences uniform within a few yards of the entrance to the _Paulson_. It is logical to conclude that you are Crewman Hunter, the replacement Medic for our vessel. I am Ensign Tack, the Science Officer aboard."

Shard felt stupid – of course it was obvious. "Yes, sir." and he continued walking, the officer falling into step alongside. As they walked, he resisted the urge to strike up a conversation with the man; Vulcans weren't much for casual conversation. In a very few seconds, the other man had passed into the ship with a nod to the crewman standing on watch in the entryway. Shard stopped and drew himself up.

"Crewman Sharden Hunter, Medical Corpsman, reporting for duty!" He presented his PADD with his orders displayed.

The other man took it and glanced at it. After making sure the Vulcan had continued on into the ship he said, "Hey, I'm Jona Wilson, Engineering. Welcome aboard, Hunter." He tapped on Shard's PADD for a few moments. "Your cabin's adjacent to the sick bay, but that's being repaired right now, so stash your gear in mine for the next couple days. port side amidships, compartment six." He nodded to Shard's single jump-bag. "That all your gear?"

"Yes, Senior Crewman."

He smiled. "We don't do a lot of rank most of the time. Call me Wilson. It's good you travel light. We're a fast ship and Captain Bonney runs us like we're pirates. Yaarr." he winked. "I see you met 'Hard' Tack."

"The Vulcan? Yeah. First one I've ever met. _Intense_!"

Wilson grinned again, "Yeah, they're all like that. Say, what the hell are _you_ anyways? You look kinda like a Cait?"

"Everyone always guesses that first. I'm a Dosadi. They're not a Federation species, but I grew up on Earth and my parents are human." He winked, "I'm adopted."

"No shit?" Wilson laughed. "Hey, I've got you logged aboard. Go dump your gear in my cabin and report to Ensign Ross on the Bridge. He's the XO. He's not as regulation-charlie as 'Hard' Tack, but he runs a right tight ship anyway. The _Paulson's_ a great ship, you'll see. If the XO doesn't have anything for you, come on back and help me play Boatswain; I'll clue you in."

"Thanks, Wilson! I'll do that!" Shard smiled at the man and headed into the ship. He had little difficulty finding Wilson's cabin and stashed his bag neatly in a storage compartment. Checking his uniform fit and making sure his fur was neat, he turned and made his way to the bridge.

The bridge back aboard the _Black Forest_ had been compact and small, but still looked very much like every other starship bridge, with the usual circular arrangement of stations around the captain's chair. The _Paulson_ had more of a cockpit. The captain's position was still centrally located and above the other two stations, but it had a console of its own. Directly in front were two joined consoles – the Flight Controller's and the XO's. That was it. It almost felt cramped. Since the _Paulson_ was a single-decker, there were no turbo-lifts. He paused briefly as the doors swooshed open and then stepped through.

Seated at the captain's position was a stocky young ensign with brown hair. He glanced up at Shard with a questioning expression.

"Crewman Sharden Hunter, Medical Corpsman reporting for duty, Sir!"

The XO looked him up and down. "Crewman Hunter, you were logged aboard nearly five minutes ago. Is it no longer traditional to report directly to the Bridge upon arrival? Or have things gotten so slack in the short while that we have been away?"

"Sir, no sir! I dropped my gear off in my temporary quarters, sir. I am still within the reporting period for my orders, sir!"

"Barely. I run a _very_ tight ship, Crewman. We are a small ship, and we rely on each other to an extraordinary degree. We cannot tolerate people larking about on a whim. Why are you so late arriving? You should have transported up and reported over an hour ago, by my watch."

Shard shuddered. "Sir! I took a shuttlecraft from the Sam Houston School."

"Ah. Not a fan of transporters, eh?"

"No, sir. I can't stand them. And I love to fly."

"I see. Well, think we've played enough of the let's be all stern and scary for the new guy routine?"

Shard grinned at him. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I hate that shit. Welcome aboard, Hunter. You've got big shoes to fill."

"Sir?"

"You're replacing Chief Petty Officer 'Doc' Henry Lee. Probably the best corpsman in Starfleet. I'd trust him over any doctor you can name on any starship. He acted as our 'Chief of the Boat' as well, but that's not going to be on you. Petty Officer Mauser, our surveyor, will take that role over."

"What happened to uh, Chief Petty Officer Lee, sir?"

"Did you see all that damage to the hull when you came aboard?"

"Yes, sir."

"We were making a sensor run on a gravimetric anomaly to see if it was worth sending a full science vessel out to investigate. It turned out to be highly sensitive to warp fields and started throwing off severe shear fields and energy streamers. Captain and Starkey got us out of it, but one of the streamers hit us right along the port side. It took out Doc's sick bay and breached his quarters. He didn't survive the impact. We weren't even able to recover him."

"Oh. That's awful, sir."

"Yeah. Shit happens. We're the cutting edge for Starfleet sciences, Hunter. We do the risky jobs, we scout around and find the _interesting_ things to study. Space is deep and there's not enough of the bigger ships, so they send out the scouts. Us. Makes it a lot faster to find the things you really want to spend time and energy researching and investigating. And from a straight math point of view, it's a lot cheaper to lose one small, 10-man ship than it is a big starship.

"There's quite a few Scout Squadrons out there, Hunter, all _Higgins_-Class or similar, but we are the _best_. No bullshit. We've got the reputation and the record to prove it. And we take the damage and injuries as well. Pappy Galaar and Wilson make sure the engines can do whatever the Captain wants, Mauser and I keep the crew tight, Ensign Tack's team gathers the data, and it's up to _you_ to keep us all healthy and whole and fix us when things go wrong. Can you handle it?"

Shard's spine snapped straight. "Yes, SIR!"

"I don't know much about Dosadi, so this'll be a learning experience for me. But I do know who checked you in; Don't call Ensign Tack 'Hard' Tack to his face or you'll be coming to see me and I will make that a very significant emotional event. Understood?"

Shard fought back the grin. "Yes, sir!"

"He knows about the nickname and he enjoys it, but familiarity is _not_ the way to interact with a Vulcan officer. Pappy you can call 'Pappy' however. Just remember to argue with him – he's a Tellarite. I'd start out by telling him the entire engine room needs to be re-designed." He winked.

This time Shard let the grin show. "Thank you, sir. I've worked with Tellarites before."

"Dismissed, Hunter. I'll put you on the schedule rotation starting tomorrow. For now, go get the skinny from Wilson or he'll be lonely. That man would gossip the ear off a Betazoid."

Shard turned and headed out, smartly.

_**USS PAULSON, ALPHA QUADRANT, UNDER WAY **_

_**DECEMBER 2361**_

Lying back in his bunk one evening, Shard just enjoyed the feel of the _Paulson's_ motion through space. There was a faint rumble that always went through the ship when she was at warp; At first it had been slightly disconcerting, especially when he was barefoot as he preferred – he could feel it in the pads of his feet quite clearly. Now, however, it was comforting; It said 'home' as much as the scent of his parent's house did; He picked up his little red name tag and read it again. Then, he put his hands behind his head, and just smiled, the tip of his tail flicking lazily. He was doing well here and he knew it; They would be proud of him.

In the six months since he had reported aboard, he'd had to treat a few illnesses – colds, viral infections, one embarrassing case of a previously unknown venereal disease – now entered into the Starfleet medical database and credited to Shard for it's discovery and cure – and a fair number of injuries. Those surprised Shard. He'd had no idea that 'Fleet duty was as hazardous as it was.

Few people did. But operating small, high-powered craft at the bounds of physics and in the depths of the universe carried with it a sizable number of hazards. Plasma burns, breaks, cuts, puncture wounds, electrical shock, bruises, internal injuries, anything that can possibly happen to a sentient's body can and did happen with frightening regularity. For Shard, however, there was a familiar feel to it – He'd been running calls on all of those wounds with his father throughout the Dales since he was a child. Farming and rural life also carried with it a fair amount of risk.

The crew of the _Paulson_ had found that they could rely on the young medic. Naturally, the first few visits from each crew member were marked with discomfort, curiosity and hesitation. But each found quickly that the short little felinoid was competent, compassionate, and friendly and that he quickly adapted to their personalities. 'Hard' Tack was always treated with cool, calm, professional crispness. The Flight Controller, Petty Officer 3rd Class Ray Starkey liked to joke to cover his fears or pain, and Shard found that the man had a massive capacity to absorb teasing and practical jokes and that they helped put him at his ease. The ship's Science Tech, PO2C Jelani 'Membe had learned that Shard could be trusted to keep private matters private, and he was extremely thankful that Shard was the one credited with his new discovery and that it was _not_ going to be named ''Membe's Disease'.

The new Chief of the Boat, PO2C Shelly Mauser, the ship's Surveyor, found Shard to be a friendly sort and a good counselor; He had a tough background as well and seemed able to identify with her difficulties with her family. Pappy Galaar discovered that Shard would happily argue with him about most anything; Shard suspected that some of the man's visits to Sick Bay had more to do with wanting to argue than real medical need. Shard tried to schedule frequent visits to the engines in order to indulge him as well, always starting out with helpful suggestions on how engineering could be run better.

He remembered the first time the Captain had been brought down. The _Paulson_ had been snooping around the edges of an ion storm, surveying limits-data and making track predictions when the damn thing had turned on them. By the time Starkey and Ross had managed to fly her back into clear space, a number of consoles throughout the ship had become super-charged and blown, including the captain's station. Ross had brought her down, one of her arms over his shoulder and set her on the lone bio-bed.

"Hunter!" Ross called out as the doors opened up. "Captain's hurt."

Shard quickly helped get her on the bed and began scanning her. The little tool whistled quietly. "All right...No fun at all. Not too severe, though, not life-threatening. Here..." he picked up a nerve blocker and placed it on the Captain's skull, finding that it wouldn't adhere through her thick black hair. The Lieutenant (Junior Grade) ran her ship with flair and a sense of fun and wore her hair long, gathered into a pony tail. Careful to pull it into a regulation bun when they were in port, aboard ship she allowed considerably more latitude in the uniform code. Shard could go bare-foot, Wilson felt the need to wear a pirate-like sash some days, their sensor operator, PO3C Liam McKay liked to work in shorts, etc.

"I'll hold it, Crewman." she said, and held the little gadget in place on her scalp.

"Thank you, ma'am. That'll numb the pain while I work."

"I'll get back to the Bridge before Starkey flies us somewhere we don't want to be, like Klingon space." Ross quipped and left the Sick Bay.

Shard worked his tools, one in each hand and swapping them for others as needed. LT (JG) Mary Bonney watched him, the destroyed tissues sloughing off neatly, damaged blood vessels sealing almost magically, then the open wound smoothly being cajoled into closing under the humming fields of Shard's instruments. She realized that he had been quietly extracting bits of panel-glass with his off hand as he worked as well.

"How old are you, Crewman?"

"Seventeen, Ma'am."

"You seem awfully competent for a brand new medic."

"Thank you, ma'am. But my father was a Starfleet doctor and my mother was a Starfleet psych-tech. I've been working on injuries since I was a little boy."

"I remember Ross filling me in on that. Human parents. Adopted, grew up in...England, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." He risked a smile. "It's okay to pet me if you want, ma'am. I've had patients do that since I was a kit; it really seems to help distract people."

She laughed. "And a mind reader as well." She used her free hand to gently stroke the fur between his ears. "A little familiar for a Captain, I suppose, but wow, you're soft."

"You're also a patient, ma'am, and humans, um, especially females, seem to see me as a really large cat and petting a cat provides a lot of comfort." He gave a very ironic smile, "It doesn't help when I start purring."

"You _purr_?" She laughed again, "Good lord. I can imagine the teasing."

"I'm used to it. It doesn't bother me any more; And usually it's meant in a friendly way, so I take it how it's meant. Um, Hmm. Can you put your arm out straight, please? One of those chunks of console cut some muscle and I don't want to heal it short or leave a scar."

She watched him closely as he finished up, and then flexed her arms and looked at where the burns had been. A few centuries back she'd have looked like a monster for the rest of her life. Now, there was simply pale white skin and pink lines where the burns and cuts had been. She studied him and decided, "Doc would be proud of you, Crewman. Thank you. Carry on." She took her leave of her youngest crewman and returned to her bridge to see how Wilson was doing repairing her station.

Shard's mind was snapped back to the present when the bosun's pipes sounded over the intercom. "Crewman Hunter to the mess." He wondered if someone had burned themselves on some coffee and made sure to slap his med-pouch on his waist before he trotted out the door.

When he arrived, he found all nine of his shipmates there. "What's wrong? Hey, who's flying the ship?" he asked puzzled.

Starkey shook his head. "And you call yourself a _Paulson_. Don't even know we've got an auto-pilot." but he was smiling. "We're just at station-keeping right now, Hunter, no need to be afraid."

Mauser, standing by the doorway raised a bosun's pipe to her lips and blew attention. Everyone in the mess got to their feet. She called "Attention to Orders!"

Confused, Shard also snapped to attention. Captain Bonney and the XO walked towards him. "Crewman Hunter! The President of the Federation, having confidence in the abilities, valor, and dedication of Crewman Sharden Hunter, recognizes his demonstrated potential for increased responsibility. Therefore, Crewman Hunter is promoted to Senior Crewman, effective immediately!"

The Captain removed the little hollow-diamond pip from his uniform, chucking it over her shoulder and replaced it with a solid diamond. She then hauled off and punched him square in the chest. "OOF!" he said, with a smile – he knew he was in for another eight of those; It was a tradition. Not that he cared – it was his first promotion and every impact was as sweet as a spoonful of sugar.

After Wilson had his turn smacking Shard in the chest, Ross said, "All right. I'm sure you all know the significance of today's date. It doesn't get much more serious than this."

There were nods of assent and a few murmurs. Shard was confused again – he wasn't even particularly sure _what _today was. The date didn't have a lot of meaning aboard-ship.

The XO continued. "Any suggestions?"

Membe offered, "Daktari."

Ensign Tack agreed. "That is logical, Petty Officer. There can be only one 'Doc' for the _Paulson_."

"What?" Shard asked, still confused.

Captain Bonney finally told him, "It's traditional to give out a nickname after a shipmate's proven themselves, Hunter. Especially to medics. Usually that's 'Doc', but I'm sure you agree with Mr Tack, there's only one 'Doc' to us."

"A nickname? What's Daktari mean?"

"It's Swahili for doctor." Membe grinned.

Ross asked, "Any others?" Seeing none he nodded, "Then we are decided. And, Daktari, _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"_

Everyone started to clap and a small cake was dragged out of the replicator. Shard was absolutely stunned. He hadn't even realized it – He was eighteen today – his first birthday since his parents had disappeared.

Later, he lifted another bite of cake into his mouth, listening to the chatter of his shipmates. He hadn't let any of them get particularly close – he never did. That lesson was hard-learned and not one he was likely to forget. But he was completely, totally content. No matter what, they were his friends – in many ways, his family, and he would do anything to keep them safe. The cake wasn't quite as sweet as he'd have liked – Dosadi taste buds are extra sensitive to salt, but not so much for sweets – but it was wonderful. He let his mind drift back to the hazy, confused memories of his childhood. Like always, whenever he started to look at that part of his life, his mind shied away, landing instead on his first few months with his parents. He wondered if they were glad that they had taken him in. They'd be proud of him, he knew, but...Were they happy that they had changed their lives so radically?

"Yo, Hunter, you awake?"

"Huh? Sorry Wilson, what was that?"

"You up for some cribbage later? You and I have the next match in the tournament. Winner gets Hard Tack and then the semi-finals!"

He smiled, "Hell yes. And loser gets to scrub down my sick bay."

"Ha! You mean loser gets to clean my tools!"


	13. Chapter 12

_**CHAPTER 12**_

"_I observe the physician with the same diligence as the disease."_

_- John Donne_

_**VILLAGE OF CHALNI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**JUNE 2362**_

The village wasn't silent. There were birds singing, the occasional barking call of small scavengers, and the plaintive meowing sound of a draft animal wanting to be fed, or untied. But other than the movement of small animals and birds, the village was still. The summer breeze blowing through town kicked up dust devils here and there and created a soft, moaning sound as it found gaps in structures or guy-wires; Sounds that would normally be masked by day to day life. Today, that breeze also carried with it a stench.

_**CITY OF HIRI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**JUNE 2362**_

Sava finished packing the last of his instruments and chemicals into a large ruck. His wife Milay watched him with concern and his children, now fifteen and nearly a meter high, tried not to hover within the study.

She finally spoke, "Why does it have to be _you_?"

He straightened up and took his wife's delicate shoulders in his hands, looking into her eyes, his whiskers twitched forward. "Because m'love, now that my theories are more accepted, my reputation restored somewhat, I am the leading expert. If whatever has happened in Chalni relates to the Red Death, I must discover what has changed."

"Why don't they send Soldiers first? To find out what happened? What if it's some sort of monster, or an invasion by Tharex's space creatures, or, or...I don't know what!"

"They are sending Soldiers. We have an entire _pack_ of Strikers escorting us. Even Philo is coming along. We need to find out what has happened there."

His son asked, "Why don't they send an airship?"

He grinned. His children were learning quickly. "They did, Meka. All they saw was...nothing. A few bodies in the streets. But everything else looked normal. You can only see so much from the air, and the crew was unwilling to descend in case whatever happened to Chalni would befall their vessel."

Feya chimed in, "But you said the people that made it to other towns said it was the Red Death."

"True. But the ones who were sick were turned away – no one wants to chance it. In fact, many of the escapees were turned away just in case they carried with them some taint. We do not _know_ it was the Red Death. What if it is something new? If there is a carnt in the tall grass, wouldn't you rather know where it is and what it is than simply react with fear to every noise?"

"Yes, Papa."

"That is why we must go. We will take every precaution. And what if there are people still alive and well there, but trapped somehow? They would have knowledge that would be priceless and they must be rescued! If you were trapped, _you_ would want to be rescued, would you not?"

"Yes, Papa." she sniffed. "But I don't want _you_ to die."

He gathered his daughter into his arms and hugged her tight. "I won't. I have our newest protective armor against the disease and chemicals to treat it with and Tharex to keep me safe as well!"

The door signal sang out it's musical notes. Milay told her son, "Go and let him in, Meka."

When Tharex came in to the study, the entire family were surprised to see Anakee. While the two of them had become fast friends, and in many ways, partners, they surely were not married and the idea of taking a woman along on such a dangerous mission was incomprehensible.

Feya even asked, "Anakee, are _you_ going too?"

"Of course. Think of the story to be told! Think of the photographs! Whatever happened to the people who lived in Chalni, they would want their story told. And who better to tell it? Besides, other than Milay, who else has more experience with the protective armor? Surely not the Strikers who accompany us."

Tharex commented, "Your photographic plates of last year's Red Death were stunning and instrumental in convincing so many of the correctness of our theories. I do not know what has changed, but to think, over three percent of our entire world dying in a single year. It is...horrifying. If something has changed, if the Red Death is somehow even more deadly than it has been...we must learn how and why."

Milay, fretting, continued, "I cannot bear it. All those I love most in the world, excepting my babies, are to be placed in the most mortal danger. Why must it always be _our_ family who do the dangerous things?" She stamped one tiny foot, "Send criminals! Or laborers or..."

Tharex interrupted her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Milay, your words are not worthy of you. To think that others somehow have less value to _their_ families or could do anything more than be sacrifices were they to be sent in our place. There is no one more qualified than the three of us, to learn what has befallen Chalni."

She rounded on her friend with uncharacteristic anger, wagging a finger in his face, "And their families would be _just_ as angry as I! It is high time _other_ families shouldered the load! You have done so much for our people, why must you be risked, again and again? Is there no one else?!"

Tharex's quiet answer was a simple, "No. There is not."

Sava tried to comfort her. "Milay, they call on us again and again because we have succeeded again and again. And we shall this time as well. Be calm. We shall return in two week's time." And he hugged her tightly while she cried into his shoulder.

_**VILLAGE OF CHALNI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**JUNE 2362**_

Making his way back to their wagon, Tharex announced, "Sava, the Soldiers have found no evidence of anything. They have scouted completely around the village and report nothing but scavengers visible. No evidence of battle, no weapons, no fires, it is as though everyone just decided to go into the forests for the day."

"Very well. Let us don our armor and we shall see what is within the village itself."

The leader of the troops asked him, "Are you sure you do not wish for an armed escort? What if there is some enemy hiding within the buildings?"

Sava answered, "I am sure that there is, but it is no enemy that can be shot down by your Soldiers. And it would only expose your men to the Red Death, if that is indeed what has happened."

The officer shuddered. "Then we will keep guard around the outskirts while you do your explorations." he looked at Philo Ern, "Why are you not donning the protective clothing that these three are?"

The medical expert cleared his throat. "They will conduct their explorations first, then I will examine what they bring back." His confidence in his theories had been badly shaken by the events of the past few years. Last year's outbreak had claimed many of his colleagues – even some of those who wore the same protective clothing that Sava, Tharex, and Anakee now wore. But many, many more of those who did not wear such equipment. While not _proof_ of their theory or the efficacy of the 'armor', it was certainly a preponderance of evidence.

The man looked at Philo. He knew fear when he smelled it. "Ah. Of course."

The scent of chemicals was strong in Anakee's nostrils. Almost unbearable; But she had been on enough battlefields with her camera-machine to know what she would have smelled were it not for the chemicals. And after several years assisting or documenting in the Sick Wards, she had learned to trust that scent – the intensity gave her confidence that anything that would cause sickness would die long before it gained access to her body. In addition, she was scrupulous about maintaining every balance within – hydration, foods of all the proper types and quantities. She was sometimes reckless with her physical safety, but disease terrified her.

The current subject of her lens was a trio of bodies part-way out of a home, one door flung open. All three showed the bloody stains along the mouth and chin and neck fur so characteristic of the Red Death. She knew, had their eyes remained, they would show the blood-shot appearance caused by the racking coughs that the disease brought about. The young woman and her two very small children had evidently made a last, desperate bid to escape, but it had clearly been far too late. The effort of opening her door had taken the last energy the woman possessed.

An hour later found Anakee in a bedroom, photographing the sad remains of another family, clustered in the parents' big bed, again showing proof of the disease progress. The home had been sealed, which kept out the scavengers so the bodies were in good shape, seemingly just lying in bed. Except the expressions on all three were horrific – eyes open, tongues out, and dried, bloody froth on their chests. She jumped, startled nearly out of her skin when Sava and Tharex came in behind her.

Tharex spoke – Sava's eyes were drawn to the sad tableau in the room, forcing him to think of his own family - "It is much the same in most of the houses here. By the time people began to flee, it must have been too late. But I am puzzled to see so many dying in clusters like this. It is as though the disease moves much faster now, kills more quickly."

Sava answered, his voice sad, "And it seems to be attacking more people as well. As though fewer are able to put up any resistance against the assault of the disease. There should be nearly a thousand people in Chalni. We know a few tens, perhaps as many as a hundred, fled to nearby towns, but the vast majority appear to still be here. Some obviously died while trying to escape. Did they wait until there were no more caregivers?"

Anakee thought about that for a while. "Normally it takes nearly a month, sometimes two, for the wasting and the damage to the lungs to become fatal. I am not seeing the weight loss here that I saw on the Sick Wards."

"We should go. We have collected samples and you have your plates. I want to return to the wagon before the chemicals in our masks dry out any further. Here, I have soaked an additional cloth for us each to tie on in addition." he handed out three scarves that he had been dousing with a chemical.

Anakee wrinkled her nose – visible even under the scarf she wore. "So much?"

"I am taking no chances. I confess, this frightens me."

She cocked her ears at that and quickly tied the scarf on over the top of the one she already wore; If _Sava_ was frightened...

"Burn it. Burn it to the ground. All of it." Sava ordered as the three of them returned to the camp the Soldiers were setting up.

"What?" The commander was surprised.

"How can you say that?!" Philo was angered as well as surprised. "You cannot order an entire village burned! Think of the property, think of those who will inherit! Think of..."

Sava cut him off, "Do you want to go live there? In fact, dear Philo, do you want to even go there now and see if you can find evidence of imbalances? There are entire families still in their beds where they died. I imagine you could take ownership of the entire town if you so chose." Sava stood to the side and waved his arm at the little town. "All yours, Philo! Go ahead! You will be very wealthy, all you have to do is clean it up a little. And hope that the Red Death hasn't taken ownership before you, of course."

The shorter man had put on some weight in the last few years. He looked uncomfortably at the structures that were visible in the distance. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "It is not for me to..."

"No man should ever go there again. And any man who _does _go there should be isolated until we can be certain they do not have the Death. In fact, you should all keep well away from _us_ until we return to Hiri. That should be enough time to be sure."

Both the Soldier and the doctor backed away from the three in their chemical soaked garments. The commander ordered, "Yes. Yes, that's a good idea. None shall approach this wagon." he waved over an aide and instructed him, "Fire incendiary rounds from our artillery at every building in town until it is entirely aflame. Leave nothing standing, nothing unburnt. Pull the perimeter even further back."

Sava spoke to the Soldier. "I will tell you how to make protective garments for yourself and your men, in case you ever have to do this again."

_**CITY OF HIRI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**AUGUST 2362**_

Tharex came into the study and sat, heavily. Sava, Anakee, and even Milay were already there. "It's here. And it's in over a dozen other cities as well. The Governors are already sealing off the sections with illness. Thank God for the airships. We are able to transfer messages up and down via the landing lines without setting down."

Sava shook his head, "They cannot remain sealed for too long. There needs to be food, milk, trade...It is a disaster every year for the city struck down by the Red Death; Now, to have so many at once?"

Milay held her hand over her mouth. "What is to happen to us?"

Tharex just shook his head. "I do not know."

Sava puffed on his pipe for a minute, then, realizing his discourtesy, offered his anashi to his friend so that he could smoke as well. "We must change our focus, Tharex."

"To what? Even those who wear our protective clothing sometimes fall ill! What more can we do?"

"We are on the defensive. The tiny invaders seem able to sometimes find the chinks in our armor. No defense is perfect, after all." he puffed. "We must go on the offensive. We must find a way to kill the Red Death once it has taken hold."

"The only way to do that involves killing the sufferer, Sava." Tharex commented.

"There must be a way. There must be a weak point."

Desperate for some humor to leaven the horrible news of the day, Anakee chimed in with "Very tiny bullets?"

There were small laughs all around at that. Tharex puffed on his own pipe. "Would that we could do exactly that. How does one find a chemical that kills one living thing but not another? How would we even test such a thing? Why, we could kill as many as the disease itself before we stumbled upon a cure!"

Sava held his pipe out and looked into the bowl. "Do we have any other choice? We must do something."

Anakee wanted a pipe too, but refrained from smoking in the Irani household as she knew Milay disapproved of women smoking. "Well, we will need some way to test whatever we come up with in such a way that it is separate from a living person..."

Tharex was thinking. "Some sort of way to take and keep living tissues in small amounts...along with the little creatures so that we can see what kills the one but not the other...some sort of small container."

"Make it clear so that I can observe with my microscope, please."

"yes...and sealed so that what is in cannot get out." Tharex puffed away.

Anakee added, "But with a method to add various chemicals for testing!"

Milay contributed, "And easy to make so they can be thrown out or burned after testing – and some way to get your living tissues."

Anakee continued, "Milay, we know how to do that – the chunks that people cough up. We must simply catch them in this new container device. And that will have the blood with the little creatures within it as well! The Red Death itself will give us what we need to defeat it!"

Sava stood up, still puffing away. "I like that. In battle it is often the enemy that provides the means for his own demise. This has precedent." He took out a roll of paper and several pencils and drawing implements and scattered them upon his designing table. "Come along now, let us work together on our battle plan."

_**CITY OF HIRI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**OCTOBER 2362**_

Sava pounded on the bench in his laboratory, making the glassware rattle. "Damnable science! If it is fatal to one, it is fatal to all! There must be _something_!"

Tharex glanced up and then returned to his chart, making another mark against this chemical.

Anakee sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, her tail swishing lazily back and forth. "We must be patient, Sava. It has barely been a week since we determined that the tissues needed the food paste in the container device to live long enough to test."

He glared at her. "_Months_ of wasted time and effort. How many have died while we chased our tails for _nothing_?"

Tharex looked up again, "I do not understand why our containment efforts are failing so badly or why the disease has not gone into hibernation as it has done every other year. It seems able to fly over walls as free as a bird. And it spreads much more quickly – as soon as there is a sign of one case, there are dozens."

Sava turned around and leaned on his bench. "Yes. And then just about three weeks later, another wave in another place. No matter how quickly we seal the affected areas, the disease jumps all our barricades, and all our walls."

"And it kills much more quickly." Anakee added sadly. "It seems to be doing much more damage to the lungs than it did. If they do not drown in their own blood, they suffocate from inability to get any air into their bodies."

"How many cities now, Anakee?" Sava asked.

It was Tharex who answered, "It would be a shorter count to name those cities not afflicted, Sava. It is spreading everywhere. Farming communities are becoming unwilling to ship food. Businesses are afraid to do business. Everywhere the affects are felt, even where there is no disease."

"How many?"

"People?" Tharex doodled on his paper. "I would guess that about five percent of the population of the civilized world is affected at this point, Sava."

Sava hung his head and said quietly, with determination, "We must not fail. We must _not_." He thought of what he saw in Chalni and the awful image of himself, Milay, and the twins lying in their bed, dried blood down their chests came, unbidden, into his mind. "Again. Bring me another sample dish. I will try charoxat. Perhaps a gentler mixture will work. It seemed to kill our cells more slowly than those of the Red Death."


	14. Chapter 13

_**CHAPTER 13**_

"_They make glorious shipwreck who are lost in seeking worlds"_

_- Gotthold Ephraim Lessing_

_**USS PAULSON, MCKINLEY STATION, DOCKED**_

_**AUGUST 2362**_

Shard wiggled his toes. The boots weren't bad, it was just that most of his time aboard ship was spent bare-foot this last year and more. The standard Starfleet jumpsuit in blue and black seemed almost confining now. Most of the time he wore scrubs and a scarf tied around his head to make sure his fur didn't end up in any wounds he might be called upon to deal with.

There had been one day in particular that always gave him a smile to recollect now. Hard Tack had dragged Shard, Wilson, Starkey, and McKay into the mess. All four crewmen were lined up against the wall, at attention. The Captain came in, looked at the line of them and tried – very hard – to suppress a grin.

Shard was in his teal scrubs, barefoot, with a black scarf tied onto his head. Mauser, a sewing enthusiast, had embroidered his name on the front of the scarf in hot pink thread. Wilson had tied a metallic gold sash around the waist of his black and gold uniform and had tucked a long sensor probe into it, which stuck out below and behind him. McKay was in shorts, a vest, and high-top moccasins with flopped over tops. Starkey completed the ensemble with loose, blousy pants, a white linen shirt and a very full beard.

"Yes, Mr. Tack?" the captain asked, politely.

"Captain, while I appreciate that we are a small vessel and a certain laxity in uniform discipline is to be expected, I would like to suggest that things have gone too far."

Her eyebrows went up. While she was in her standard black and red Starfleet uniform, she had swapped the boots for a pair of moccasins, mostly invisible under her pant legs and her own long black hair was in a very non-regulation pony-tail. "Perhaps, Mr. Tack." she tentatively agreed and again swept the line of miscreants with her eyes. She cleared her throat. "Petty Officer McKay. Can you explain your choice of..._uniform_ today?"

Eyes locked on the far bulkhead he offered, "Yes, ma'am. The Engineer and Mr Tack like it a lot warmer than I do, ma'am. I'm from Belfast, it's fairly cool there. And down in the Sensory, when they jack the temperature up, it's unbearable. So, I dress down for comfort so I can pay more attention."

"I see." She moved on. "Petty Officer Starkey? The beard?"

"Well. I." he sighed. "No excuses, ma'am." It wasn't like she hadn't noticed him growing it. His duty station was less than six feet in front of hers.

"Crewman Wilson." She looked at the sash. "Very dashing. The sword is a nice touch."

"Yarr, Cap'n. Thank ye." he grinned. "'Tis a field sensor probe though, not a proper cutlass."

She suppressed another smile and a giggle. "I see. And when next I see you?"

He straightened up, but still with a smile. "Yes, ma'am, proper Starfleet uniform, top to bottom, ma'am!"

"Excellent." She moved on to the end of the line. "Bare feet, Crewman Hunter? The rest I can understand if you were to be doing surgery, but bare feet?"

"Arr. Better traction, Cap'n!" he popped his claws, then quickly corrected himself with a smile. "Yes, ma'am. Just in case I had a medical emergency. Proper uniform first thing once we're released, ma'am."

She raised her eyebrow. "Wilson, you are a corrupting influence on Hunter. I'll ask you to cease convincing the rest of the crew that we are a pirate vessel. I will be paying more attention to uniforms in the future, gentlemen. I'll have the Chief of the Boat inspect each of your quarters at 1900 hrs as well, just to make sure you _have_ proper uniforms and that your quarters are laid out according to regulation. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!" all four echoed in unison.

She turned to her science officer. "Better, Mr. Tack?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." he sighed with relief.

"Thank you for bringing this situation to my attention, Mr. Tack. I'm sure had Mr. Ross been on duty, he would also have been quick to apply a correction." She turned to go. Only Shard and Tack had hearing sensitive enough to have heard her say, quietly, "Yarr, avast that slack." and snicker as the doors swooshed closed.

Shard's woolgathering came to an abrupt halt as McKay came into the docking module. The Irishman looked at him and asked, "Playing boatswain today, eh, Daktari?"

"Yah. And to be honest, I would've been here to see you off anyway. You may be a disreputable Mick instead of a proper Yorkshireman, but you were a hell of a sensor operator." Shard reached out and took his hand, pulling him close and slapping him on the back, "And a damn good friend."

Affecting a thick brogue, McKay gave back as good as he got, "Sure an ye've gone and gotten things all confused, like any Yorkie. But lad, I'll forgive ye out of the kindness of me heart." Returning to his normal speech, he returned the hug. "And you, Shard. I'll miss you. If you ever get a chance to come visit us on the _Zhukov_, do it. Mary would love to meet you and by then we might have our first! If it's a boy, I'll try to talk her into Shard as a middle name."

Surprised Shard, asked, "Seriously? You'd do that?"

The man looked at the young medic. "I won't forget what you did for me, Shard. If I'm here to try to have a kid, it's because of you." He gave into a long-felt temptation and gently stroked the fur on top of Shard's head, then he slapped the Dosadi on the shoulder before things could get any more sappy. "Not bad for a big cat. Mary'll be sure to have some tuna set out when you come to visit."

"Mew!" Shard said and laughed. "Safe travels, Liam." He watched as his friend shouldered his duffel and walked into McKinley Station, then settled back into a relaxed sort of 'attention'. While he sat out his duty shift, he wished he had brought his flute down with him. Some music would be nice. Then again, they were in port, and the Captain liked to tighten things up when the rest of 'Fleet was about. Much as he'd like to sit down and play a tune or three while he watched the blank tan of the door, regulations called for him to stand and stare at it. So he did. Besides, the replacement for McKay should be here eventually.

He had just gotten around to again wishing he had brought the flute when the door cycled open. A compact young human female with long blond hair bound into a bun and Wedgewood-blue eyes saluted him, handed forth her PADD and said "Crewman Kathryn Byrd reporting!"

Shard took it and examined the orders briefly. Sure enough, she was the new sensor operator; Fresh out of training. "Hey, I'm Hunter, the medic. Welcome aboard, Byrd." He tapped on her PADD for a bit, transferring her orders into the ship's computer and validating them. "That all your gear, Byrd?"

"Yes, Senior Crewman."

He smiled, remembering when _he_ was the one reporting. "We don't do a lot of rank most of the time, so call me Hunter. Glad to see you travel light. We're a fast ship and Captain Bonney runs us like we're pirates a lot of the time, so we're sort of casual. Yaarr." he winked. "You're taking over for 'Rabbit' McKay, probably the best sensor operator in the fleet, so you've got some big shoes to fill."

"Rabbit?" she was confused.

"Rabbit Ears?" he indicated his own much larger-than-human hearing equipment. "Big? Sensitive?"

"Oh!" she laughed, then straightened up quickly.

"Anyway, we're going to expect a lot from you, fast; The _Paulson's_ the best ship in the fleet. Drop your gear off in your quarters, starboard side forward, compartment thirteen. Then get up to the bridge and report in. The XO's Ensign Ross and he's got the deck. Good to meet you, Byrd."

He watched her as she made her way into the vessel. He had something wrong with his memory, he knew that and every psych eval he'd ever had indicated that he'd suffered some repetitive brain damage during his childhood years, but damn near every human female he ever met seemed to remind him of someone, but he could never think of who. Still, it would nice to finally not be the shortest member of the crew; Byrd was a good inch or two under his own five foot four.

That evening, the _Paulson_ was again underway and Shard was in the mess with the off-duty crew and Captain Bonney. Byrd had walked in and spent a few moments trying to orient herself. The Captain waved her over to the table she was sharing with Shard. "Come on in, Crewman. Grab some chow and come have a seat."

When she had done so, the Captain started in on getting her integrated into the crew. "So, Ensign Ross clued me in on your record, Byrd. Three training cruises with excellent marks, one with outstanding. But I see all four were on larger starships. Nothing small."

"No ma'am. There were too many in our class to fit onto a small ship. So we took turns rotating through the sensories on the bigger ships. But I've done both port and starboard, as well as gravimetric and astro labs, ma'am."

Bonney took a drink and continued, "Well, here, you're pretty much it. Every sensor we've got is under your control. You'll work closely with Ensign Tack, our Science Officer and Petty Officer 'Membe, our Science Tech, as well as Petty Officer Mauser, the Surveyor. The _Paulson's_ a very different ship from what you're used to, Byrd.

"The _Higgins_-class ships are the PT boats of science. Fast, reliable, accurate, maneuverable, and...expendable. We scout out the interesting phenomena and bird-dog them for the bigger ships with all the labs. They get the fame, but _we're_ the ones that usually find them first. Even when we _don't,_ they usually send us in first to scout it out and get the info to the research vessels.

She looked around the mess quickly, "What are my orders?"

Everyone in the room, except Byrd, shouted, "SCOUTS OUT!" It would be the one and only time she failed to sound off when needed.

"Damn straight. We are _always_ looking, listening, smelling, feeling, every sense attuned to find anything new. You're the one who's responsible for the heart and soul of our mission, Byrd. Are you up to the challenge?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Byrd agreed emphatically.

Shard looked at his Captain. She, and the XO, managed to convince each and every crewman aboard the _Paulson_ that their job was the lynchpin of the entire ship. That what they did was vital, every moment of every day, and that attitude percolated down to even the most mundane tasks. He recalled that even when cleaning decks he was thinking that his mates were depending upon _him_ to make sure the ship was clean and ready for action. He wondered if he could ever be that sort of officer.

But it was his turn to contribute to the conversation, to help make the newbie welcome, even as everyone had done that for _him_ a year and a half ago. "So Byrd, where you from?"

"Fort William, Scotland... Can I ask what race you are?" She turned those interesting eyes on him.

He thought, briefly, that it would be easy to get lost in those eyes. "I'm a Dosadi. Everyone always guesses Cait first though, so don't be too worried if you didn't get it right off. We're not part of the Federation."

"Oh. I didn't mean to be nosy, you just looked...I dunno familiar somehow."

He laughed, "I was thinking the same thing. It's weird how memory plays tricks, isn't it?"

Starkey decided to chime in with one of his trademark bad jokes. "So...a Byrd and a Hunter...who's also a cat. This just isn't going to end well for anyone, is it?"

Shard rolled his eyes. "You see why we nicknamed him 'Joker'" and laughed.

"What's this 'we' Hunter? I helped pick out _your _nickname."

Shard stuck his tongue out at the flight controller.

Byrd laughed, "Does everyone have a nickname? He told me I'm replacing Rabbit, you're Joker...?"

The Captain smiled. "It's a tradition on the _Paulson_. Once you've proven yourself, you get a nickname. She made the introductions. "'Hairy' Ross, the XO you've met. That's 'Pappy' Galaar, our Engineer. The Vulcan is Mr. 'Hard' Tack, the Science Officer. 'Daktari' Hunter, you've met of course – it means doctor in Swahili. PO2C 'Mouse' Mauser is our COB and Surveyor, PO2C 'Tomcat' 'Membe is our Science Tech, and Senior Crewman 'Whale' Wilson is our Engineer's Mate.

The newcomer asked, "Shouldn't you be more worried about 'Mouse' than 'Byrd'?"

Starkey shook his head. "'Mouse' is Chief of the Boat. _Nobody_ bothers the COB. So our 'Mouse' chases our cat instead."

The aforementioned 'Mouse' gave him an amiable smack across the back of the head.

Byrd grinned. "What do you have to do before you get a nickname?"

"You'll know it when it happens." Mauser told her. "Don't worry about it. Do your job as well as 'Rabbit' McKay and every sensorman in the fleet will know your name."

"I'd never heard of him before."

"Because this is your first ship. Trust me – he's been on active duty for a whopping five years, but when he wanted to transfer to the _Zhukov_ to go start a family with his wife, they damn near chased us down to come and get him."

Though the _Paulson _was a small ship and it was impossible not to be in constant contact with nearly all your shipmates, that's different than having the chance to sit and chat together for any length of time. So it was a solid three days before Shard and Byrd had a real opportunity to talk again. He was laying back in his bunk, wearing just a pair of shorts, when the door chime sounded. "Come!" he called out, sitting up and smiling when the door cycled open to reveal the pretty blond.

"Good evening, Hunter!" she greeted him, and came into his cabin, letting the door cycle closed.

"Hi! I wasn't expecting to really see you until tomorrow at your medical check-in. What can I help you with?"'

She pulled out the lone chair in the small cabin and sat down facing him. "I just wanted to talk with you is all. You seem _so _familiar to me."

He smiled and leaned forward. "Yeah, you do too. Like someone out of a dream."

"What's Dosad like, anyway?"

"I don't remember it all that well. It's a lot of forests and mountains and some rivers though. There's a lot I don't remember."

"Why not? What happened?"

Shard squirmed a bit. "I don't remember a lot. I had a lot of head injuries as a child," he looked up and grinned, "I really am brain damaged."

She was surprised. "Head injuries? That's horrible! Is Dosad that dangerous?" She stood up, somewhat uncomfortable at his revelation and started politely looking around his quarters. There wasn't that much. A black lacquered flute on a stand, a single photo of two humans with Shard in between them, and a small leather bag on the same shelf.

"I don't think so. I think I'm just really unlucky. My whole life was pretty horrible until my dad rescued me."

"Your dad rescued you?" She looked at the photograph and picked up the little leather bag. Shard thought briefly that she was a curious as any cat – almost nosy. Not that he minded. She smelled wonderful; a faint whiff of vanilla and a light orange scent of soap, perhaps. She moved with grace and her pony-tail swayed hypnotically when she moved and her voice struck him like a familiar song.

"Yeah. Like right before I was going to be killed."

"That's horrible." She peeked in the little bag and asked, "Who are the humans in your picture?"

"My parents."

"Why do you have human parents? Oh! Marbles!" she laughed and shook the three little glass spheres into her hand. "I haven't played marbles since I was a really little girl. Do you still play? Is that why you've got them?"

He laughed, "Wow, you bounce all over the place! Yes, I do. I used to do house-calls with my dad and kids love to be distracted when something medical's happening, and marbles are perfect for that. Do you still remember how?"

"Are you challenging me?"

"Sure." he grinned and stood up, the little red disc at his neck clinking softly. "Dosadi _love_ challenges." he ordered the tiny replicator in his quarters to produce a couple dozen of the little glass balls and scattered them in a small cluster on the floor. "Careful, I'm a demon shot with this one." he picked up a small green and white marble from his bag.

She knelt down opposite him. "We'll just see about that." She took aim and fired, her first shot striking true and knocking another one across the floor. "Ha!" While Shard was aiming she laughed again, "You know, when I was a really little girl, I was alone most of the time and I invented whole kingdoms and stories, just like my mom did. I had a lizard who was king of the underground, and a talking lion that I taught to play marbles, and a hawk who could sing and play a lute. My mom still teases me about how real they all seemed to me."

He shook his head and took careful aim, his long fingers acting as a guide. "I wish I remembered more sometimes, but sometimes not. Pretty much everyone that was ever even nice to me died, I think. He fired his marble and it clacked into another one, knocking it across the floor. She picked it up and looked at it with an odd expression on her face.

He sat up, his necklace clinking softly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure..." She looked at him, distracted by the sparkly bit of red below his throat. "What's that around your neck?"

"Oh, just a good luck charm." He leaned forward so she could see it. She reached up to lift it over his head and he quickly grabbed her hands. "No, it doesn't come off. Ever. I haven't had this off since the day my dad rescued me."

"What's it say?" She leaned forward to read it.

"It's just my name and address. I didn't speak Standard when he saved me and that was so no matter what, I wouldn't get lost again an...what's wrong?"

She had sat back and was staring at him with her hand over her mouth.

"Byrd? Are you okay?" he asked again.

"My imaginary talking lion was named Shard."

His jaw fell open. "What?"

"Well, the lion was real, but I made up that he talked, and that I taught him how to play marbles and I gave him three. Like one of my favorites." she held up the marble. "It was a green and white swirley."

Shard's eyes widened and his ears flipped backwards. "What?" There were a number of confused, terrifying, and awful memories swirling around just under the surface of his mind.

"But the Constable killed him when he tried to eat me. My mom told me. We moved way up north to Ft. William in case there were any more. I saw the body. He was dead."

"How..." Shard was struggling to regain control of what was going on within his head.

"That was near Reeth, in the Dales."

"No. It can't...I saw...She was..." He put his head in his hands. "Gaa!"

She put her hand on his arm, concerned, "Shard? That was you wasn't it? Shard? What's wrong?"

"No!" He was shaking as a waterfall of memories hammered through him. Long suppressed images of dozens of horrible things all slamming into his consciousness at the same time, every bit as real as when they had occurred. "No!"

She was worried now, he had both his ears screwed up in his hands, "Shard? I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..."

He looked at her, confused, horrified, and with a child's mangled pronunciation choked out "Katybyrd's dead! You shot her!" Then he stood up quickly, staggered backwards a half-step, tried to turn around to run, but had no place to go and instead slammed himself into a corner and tried to fold into a ball, his hands over his ears and his tail puffed completely up. "STOP HURTING ME!"

Byrd had no idea what to do – no idea what was wrong, or why the medic would react that way, if he really _was_ Shard, if it hadn't all been a story like her mom said, why was he freaking out? What had happened? But she knew that somehow, she had upset him, badly, and that he was terrified and hurt. She slid across the floor on her butt, reached her hand out and touched him gently on the shoulder.

He was shaking and obviously crying and seemed to be trying to curl himself into his own belly. "Shard? It's okay." she had recognized her own name and the run-together version of it was tripping a number of her own memories and her quick mind was knitting together what must have happened rather than what her mother _thought_ had happened. "Katybyrd's not dead, Shard. It was on stun. He just knocked me out and then woke me up. Shard?" she was stroking his fur.

Still trying to soothe him and having no idea of just what she had broken loose within his mind, she continued, "I thought _you_ were dead. Then I thought you weren't even real. Well, not like I imagined." She laughed, "How did we end up on the same tiny ship? This is crazy."

Finally, she gave up on trying to talk to him and just made soothing sounds and stroked his fur. After a while, he uncurled enough to wrap his arms around her and cry on her instead of trying to disappear into himself. Patient and kind, she didn't pull back or comment on how very unsettling his behavior was or do anything other than hold him and let him cry. Eventually he finally regained control of his emotions and wiped his nose on his arm.

"I'm sorry. God I have no idea what just happened that was...horrible. I don't know why that...God."

"What happened to you?"

"I think every memory I ever suppressed just broke loose all at the same time. Every counselor I ever went to told me I needed to deal with them...Holy _shit_." he put his hand to his head, and sat back, away from Byrd. "I'm so sorry." He looked at her uniform shirt and managed a small laugh. "I got snot on your shirt."

She laughed back, "I don't care. I just can't believe you're _real_. _Or_ that we're on the same ship. Or that you're alive. I cried for _days_. My mom thought you were dead too."

He reached his hand out and touched hers, turning it palm up and letting his thumb stroke across her palm. "I almost was. He sort of beat my brains out. A lot. My dad told me he was literally about to kill me when dad came in and dad's men shot _him_ instead. He was going to club me to death and skin me."

"That's horrible! Is that why you suppressed everything?"

He looked at her. She saw a truly haunted expression in his eyes and drew back slightly. "No, that was pretty minor at the end of things. My whole life up to that point was just...awful. Him killing you was about the final straw, and then him torturing me. At that point I pretty well gave up."

"I'm so sorry to bring all that back. Should I go?"

He gripped her hand. "No, please no. Please stay."

"Do you want to talk about it? Or would that make it worse?"

"Do you want to hear it? I'll probably remember more if I start talking...it's pretty awful."

"Well, I started it, maybe it's time you got it out. I'll tell you if it gets to be too much, okay?"

"Thanks." he smiled at her, a genuine smile full of warmth. "Want to get off the floor? I don't mean to be creepy but the bunk'll be a lot more comfortable, especially if I lose it again."

She smiled back. "Okay. I survived you trying to eat me, according to my mother, so I guess I can survive having you blow snot on my shirt." She kept hold of his hand as they both sat cross-legged on his bunk and he began to talk. For the first time in his entire life, it poured out of him. From the still hazy memories of his kittenhood, to At'Vax, his lack of friends, his parents' abusive behavior and death, to his spotty remembrances of Selenda MacLaren...All of it; There were still many holes, many missing pieces, but many of his memories were back.

Byrd was an active listener – and a truly interested one as well. It was hours later when he finally talked himself out; and her. He didn't recall quite when they had gone from sitting facing each other, to her leaning back against his chest, to them laying on their sides, spooned into each other. But he suddenly became aware that his arms were full of a warm, soft young woman who's scent was filling his nose.

"Katy?"

She replied sleepily. "Kathryn. I haven't been Katy since I was ten."

"It's pretty late." he glanced at the chrono on the replicator in his quarters. "Well, early anyway."

"Mmmhmm." She snuggled back into him.

"Do you want to go back to..."

She reached her hand up and stroked the side of his face. "Shh."

He shh'd.

_**USS PAULSON, THE BADLANDS, UNDER WAY**_

_**SEPTEMBER 2362**_

__It is impossible to conceal a relationship between two people on a ten man vessel. Since they were both enlisted and neither supervised the other, no one really cared much; Other than it provided fodder for humor and perhaps a little jealousy and envy. The _Paulson_ generally ran twelve-hour sifts with eight men handling 'Day' shift and two the 'Night' shift. The three officers and the COB rotated through commanding the 'Night' shift along with the crew so that no one was permanently stuck on one shift or the other.

Starkey, Wilson, and 'Membe were Shard's rivals for Byrd's attention; She was friendly with all three, but her relationship with Shard was what Dosadi call _th'mew_. A term that means one's most trusted friends, often with an overtone of romantic and physical love attached to it. He remembered her as a friend when he had no others, someone who shared their food and who was indirectly responsible for saving his life. She recalled Shard as the lion from the imaginary world of her childhood. They both found quickly that their personalities still meshed well; The friendly curiosity that had founded their friendship as children worked just as well today. Instead of driving her away, Shard's breakdown piqued the young woman's interest, her desire to learn more about who he _really_ was.

One evening, they were in the _Paulson's_ little mess compartment finishing up an early dinner when the rest of the 'Day' shift came in and filled the place to capacity. 'Membe, taking a sip of his coffee asked her with a wicked smile, "So, ready to try a _man_ yet?"

She smiled back and asked innocently, "How _did_ you get your nickname...'Tomcat'?"

"Uhh..." he tried to think up an excuse other than the actual story.

Starkey decided to help him out. "'Cause he tomcats around with any woman he can talk into putting up with him for two to three minutes!"

"Hey!" he objected with a laugh.

Wilson chimed in with, "Guess she'd rather have a _real _cat, 'Membe."

The lanky Tanzanian tried again, "Hey, c'mon, Byrd, you know what they say, once you go black, you never go back." and waggled his eyebrows at her.

Ensign Ross just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Byrd picked up Shard's tail and stroked the end under her chin, looking at 'Membe with bedroom eyes. "Sorry, 'Tomcat'...I just don't know if you could ever..." she held up the end of the Dosadi's meter long tail, smoothed the fur erotically and continued, "measure up."

Starkey swallowed his water backwards and Ross had to slap his back to clear his windpipe before he coughed himself to death.

Wilson just laughed, "It's gotta be the fur. C'mon, fess up, Shard, how'd you talk a gorgeous blond into spending nights in your cabin?"

Shard held his hand up and licked the back of his wrist, his long, rough tongue grooming the fur there much as his ancient ancestors had done. "I'll never tell."

Byrd stood up and with an extra roll to her hips took her tray back to the replicator. "And you'll never know." She stuck her tongue out and said, "Sucks to be you, boys!" and walked out the door with a laugh as all three of them laughed and applauded.

The Captain raised her glass to Shard and said, "I think the lady wins this round, gentlemen. As you know, I don't particularly care who sleeps with who, as long as it doesn't interfere with the safe and efficient operation of this vessel. If you men start getting into a pissing match over her, I'll neuter all four of you with a conduit clamp. Do I make myself clear?"

All four answered quickly, and with feeling, "Yes, ma'am!" They had absolutely no doubt she would do exactly that.

It had been barely a week since the captain's gentle reminder to everyone to play nice and Shard and Byrd were curled up on his bunk. She was sweaty, his fur was in complete disarray and both of them looked disgustingly satisfied. She ran her finger up his chest and toyed with the little red name disc. "There's definitely something to be said for having a lover with a tail. And who's as strong as you are. Damn."

Shard stretched and yawned; she just enjoyed watching the muscles ripple under the fur. "If I start listing off all of your pluses, we're not going to be leaving here for days."

"Ooo. Shucks." she laid her chin on his arm. "I love when you purr." she giggled. "This is so kinky."

He grinned down at her. "Yah, it is, I guess. Probably more for you, huh? I mean, you look like everyone else, except sexier. I look like a big cat."

"That's not a bad thing." She rubbed at some bite marks on her neck. "Although, the teeth are a lot sharper than my last boyfriend's." and she laughed. "Kinky can be fun."

They both lay there for a while, just relaxing and enjoying the closeness. She looked up at him again. "You ever think about what you're going to do, Shard? Like for a wife, or a family?"

He stroked her hair. "That's not for me, Katybyrd. I'm pretty broken; you saw that. My parents taught me as much as they could about Dosadi culture, but I don't _know_ it. I'm kinda a chimera. I _feel _human, mostly. But I know I'm not. And it can get really confusing sometimes." He shrugged. "Besides, I'm not that lucky. Even if I _did_ find someone, I wouldn't want to stick them with _me_, or the horrible things that always seem to happen to people close to me."

She pinched him. "What am _I_?!"

His ears sagged downward, "I worry about that, a lot, Katybyrd. I don't want to keep you from the guy you're _supposed _to be with, and I'm really being pretty cowardly; I'm selfish. I'm not thinking of what could happen to you."

"Bullshit. There's no such thing as unlucky and you're no more broken than anyone else. Hell, look at 'Membe – That man will sleep with anything with a pulse. How about Starkey? He makes jokes all the time because he's afraid."

He shook his head. "You learn too fast. How'd you figure that out so quick?"

She glared at him. "Nice subject change. Fine, but you're not broken." she bit him. "And I love you anyways. How'd I learn so fast? I _do_ talk to people other than you, Shard, and I like stories every bit as much as you do."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Nah, you didn't." She sat up, slid off the bunk and took the two steps to where his flute was on its stand, and returned with it her hand. "Play me something." She sat opposite him again.

He managed to take his eyes off of her body and sat up. "Always. Anything in particular?"

"Whatever fits your mood. Surprise me."

Shard hesitated for a few seconds then began to play a very soft, simple tune; Sad and wistful, full of loss but with a hint of hope.

She interrupted him. "That's your mood?"

He put the flute down and nodded.

She looked at him. "Does it have words?"

He spoke to the ship's computer. "Computer, lyrics only, play the song 'Aftermath' by Lifehouse, circa twenty-first century, synchronize to ambient music." and he began to play again, the computer singing along in a male voice:

_We have kept a light on through the trouble  
Treaded water in a sea of tears  
Now I'm shooting arrows across your night sky  
Trying to land in your atmosphere_

If we can make it through this storm  
And become who we were before  
Promise me we'll never look back  
The worst is far behind us now  
We'll make it out of here somehow  
Meet me in the aftermath  
Oh Meet me in the aftermath

There's so much more to life than all of the hours  
Moments that just slid beneath our feet  
In the times that we put it all on the table  
And help feels too far beyond our reach

If we can make it through this storm  
And become who we were before  
Promise me we'll never look back  
The worst is far behind us now  
We'll make it out of here somehow  
Meet me in the aftermath  
Oh Meet me in the aftermath

If we can make it through this storm  
And become who we were before  
Promise me we'll never look back  
The worst is far behind us now  
We'll make it out of here somehow  
Meet me in the aftermath  
Oh Meet me in the aftermath  
Meet me in the aftermath

The volume had swelled across the last bit and he held the final note long and pure, finally letting it fade out, then putting the flute back in his lap. She had been sitting on the other end of his bunk, cross-legged, mirroring his posture. He looked down at nothing and she let her eyes roam his face. She reached her hand up and stroked his knee, feeling some of the scars that were still there. "Thank you, Shard."

"For the song? You're welcome. I like playing."

"No, for being honest about your mood." She traced the scar up his leg. "You still have so much sadness inside you, it's good that you're letting it out some. Even if it's a little weird how fast you can go from being an aggressive and _very_ happy lover to this hurt little boy." She put her hands flat outside his thighs and leaned forward, kissing him gently. "I gotta get down to the sensory, I've got some 'grams running. Meow!" She giggled and bounced off the bed onto her feet and began getting dressed.

Shard enjoyed the show – so did she, finally bouncing out the door to the nearby 'fresher with a smile ten minutes later.

_**USS PAULSON, THE BADLANDS, UNDER WAY**_

_**OCTOBER 2362**_

Crewman Kathryn Byrd was sitting in the heart of the _Paulson_. The ship was literally designed around the sensory. Just aft of the bridge, it was the largest single compartment aboard outside of Engineering; Despite that, the actual working space within, was cramped. Right then, that cramped volume was full of music. Songs of the late twentieth and twenty-first centuries had been enjoying a renaissance in popularity as of late, and Byrd was singing along to an Irish song called, "Rose Tattoo" by a band named "The Dropkick Murphy's"; 'Rabbit' McKay had left quite a collection of Irish drinking songs ranging across the better part of four hundred years.

The _Paluson's_ sensory station was like no other class of vessel's. There was a single gap in the control panels and displays that allowed her to gain her seat – which was the most comfortable chair aboard the ship. She could pivot it in a complete circle, lean it back to full horizontal; almost any position imaginable. Every sensor aboard the little Science Scout fed into these displays and she could control them all with the gentle touch of a finger.

For her, it was heaven. Diagnosed as a child with ADD, her mother had chosen not to treat the 'disorder', allowing her daughter to decide as she grew and instead feeding her daughter's insatiable need for more information, more data, faster and faster! Byrd had long since taken her mind's ability to process many tracks simultaneously as an advantage. An advantage that, to her, was well worth the difficulties that ADD brought with it.

When she had first reported aboard, she believed her duty position would be much like any other Starfleet sensory; A quiet room with a workstation, several large displays, dim lights, soft carpets and a décor that was best described as early-modern dull.

Instead, the doors had slid open revealing a very narrow slot giving her access to this marvelous chair in the heart of the half-globe of information screens and control panels. It's prior occupant had decorated every open bit of space with pictures of all things Irish and not a few images of rabbits. She had begun replacing those with her own preference: Unicorns prancing through the Scottish highlands. The music, she saw no need to replace. She absolutely _loved_ that she could blast music when she chose, or let the sensors report their information in a waterfall of sound while she spun in circles, adjusting this sensor or that, hearing, seeing, and _feeling_ every bit of data that was delivered to her.

Just now, she was slowly turning 'round, letting her eyes scan the sensor suite, occasionally switching a display from visual to waterfall, or false-color to spectral, or vector field to wave-display, whatever felt right. The computers analyzed everything of course, and would flag items of interest, but Captain Bonney, like all the _Higgins-_class captains, found that a good sensorman, given free rein, tended to find items of interest the computer never noticed and usually flagged the items the computer did long before the machine reached a conclusion. For all the advances in the field, the sentient being was still the finest computer in the galaxy.

Up on the bridge, LT (J.G.) Bonney, ENS Tack, and PO3C Starkey were all in their usual positions, watching the main view screen. The Badlands was extraordinarily dangerous space – an unwary crew would be lost quickly. Fortunately, Byrd, Starkey, and Tack worked quite well together and Starkey's console displayed a 'safe' corridor that he was flying the ship through. That corridor was the product of the constant interplay of information and analysis by the three sailors. Byrd's sensors told them what was out there, Tack's analysis put the information in context and identified threats, and Starkey plotted his course; The three workstations operated in a sort of quorum where two votes out of three ruled, though Starkey's flight control station had the ability to overrule the other two.

Bonney loved watching that process work. From her raised position, she could see the canted console between Starky and Tack and watch that 'safe' corridor twisting and morphing as the three pushed or pulled at various bits with their contributions; It was fascinating. And she knew the entire time that the _Paulson_ was making way through the maze of plasma storms, columns of ionized gasses, debris, dark stars and a hundred other hazards, that they were recording petabytes of information every second as to what was there. She tapped at her own console, bringing up an engineering display, noting that ENS Galaar was keeping the ship's single warp drive running at it's usual 105% of rated efficiency. Another tap and she checked on Mauser's surveying progress, watching the solid map of the space around them filling in with a variety of colors.

There was a sudden chirp followed by "Sensory to Bridge, got something interesting at 074 mark 311, three grid cubes out."

Bonney reached for the button on her command chair to respond only to have it chirp again. "Portside Lab to Bridge, can I get a closer look at whatever's at 074 mark 311, three to five grid cubes distant? I'm unable to identify."

She glanced quickly at the canted console and noticed that whatever it was, the 'safe' corridor went well away from it. She decided quickly: 'safe' wasn't in the _Paulson's_ mission description. Semper Exploro _was._ She toggled the ship-wide intercom. "All hands, this is the Captain. Sorry to wake you Ross, please report to the Bridge and relieve Mr. Tack. Wilson, report to engineering, on the bounce! We've identified an interesting phenomena close aboard the starboard bow and we're going to investigate. Whatever it is, it's _un_usual, _un_known, and _un_likely to remain so much longer. What are my orders?"

The ship echoed from stem to stern with "SCOUTS OUT!"

"Damn straight! Come right to 074 mark 311, all ahead slow, maximum deflectors. Bring us to a halt no closer than half a cube out. Anyone sees anything wonky, call a safety stop. Take us in easy, Joker."

The _USS Paulson_ floated in space, motionless relative to the phenomena in front of her. A giant, roiling ball of plasma and super-charged H+ gas in a slightly oblate spheroid shape. There were massive storms and nebula of all sort in the Badlands; What was strange about this one was that it was keeping it's shape, drawing more plasma and debris into the swirling inferno as it went.

Shard sat back in Sick Bay, listening to the chatter over the intercom. He had his main display showing a relay from the bridge's main view-screen just so he could keep tabs on what was happening.

Byrd's soprano voice came through clearly, "Captain, I'm telling you there's something _inside_ that mess. It's not solid."

Hard Tack, tucked into the starboard-side lab station wasn't buying it, "That is illogical, Crewman Byrd. There have been no phenomena yet logged within any space made up of a plasma shell; Such a structure would be intrinsically unstable and would collapse upon itself. Are you positing that there is a vessel within? The entire structure is nearly eight astronomical units across. You could drop all of your solar system's inner planets inside it. No vessel could be so large."

"Sir, I'm not positing anything. I'm telling you that the sensor readings are not what I would expect for a solid plasma storm. There are odd mass indications within it, energy readings that don't make sense, gravimetric wave fronts that are _not_ like anything else we've seen. Blah, blah, blah. Sir, it isn't solid."

'Membe chimed in next, from the port-side lab. "Sir, I dunno. There's a lot of anti-neutrino and neutrino traffic coming out of there, as well as a spiral pattern of protons at about 12 KeV. If whatever's making up the core of that thing is blowing off plasma like that, it could be providing a sort of inner pressure holding the high-energy plasma out _here _in a sort of shell."

Shard listened to the debate rage. So did the Captain. When she had heard enough, she brought it to a stop. "Thank you all for your input. Pappy, can the shields handle a trip through that firestorm?"

There was a brief pause. "Maybe. Captain, we're no warship. If it _is_ a shell and if it's thin enough and _if_ the anti-neutrino's aren't too heavy inside it, we could make it...70/30 chance. If it's a solid storm like Mr Tack says, we'd need to turn around fast and get out of there and we'd still likely scorch all the paint off the hull."

Mauser added her bit. "Why not just flag it and let one of the big _Oberth_'s wade into that crap, Cap'n?"

"Flag it as what, Mouse? Big burning ball of gas that might be an easter egg?"

There were chuckles throughout the ship and she continued. "We can risk a quick trip in and if need be, out. Our job is to take risks, and risks we shall take. In fact, Mr. Tack, please record this phenomena as the "_Paulson Easter Egg"_. Before we go in, drop the log buoy with a delayed activation. We'll pick it back up on the way back out.

"Now then. Pappy, let me know when you've got everything set for best resistance to that mess. Byrd, Mouse, Tack, and Tomcat, signal the Bridge when you're tuned for maximum input. Ross, once we're all tracking, drop the buoy and we'll head in. Joker, she's all yours. Fly your gut."

After a few minutes, all the various stations signaled ready and she gave her final order. "All hands, secure for heavy space. Harnesses and discharge nets, all stations."

Each crew-member pulled out and down a four-point harness and secured themselves to their seats, then slapped panels on the sides of their consoles that dropped a fray of discharge wires nearly down to the floor. These would help prevent panels from super-charging and exploding and direct excess energies into a safer direction.

The _Paulson_ began to skirt along the edges of the storm, looking and feeling for a thin point in the supposed shell of fire. For once, Byrd found herself nearly overwhelmed as she tried to process everything coming into the sensory, desperately seeking an opening, something to guide Joker. She watched the information on her displays pivot as the scout rolled hard and accelerated rapidly. Byrd checked her harness as the ship began to vibrate, and then shake.

She was right. She knew she was. She could _feel _it. But the information on her sensor displays were telling a story that was going form bad to worse. She slid her fingers along several sensor controls, finding areas of lower concentrations for Joker.

The _Paulson_ was tearing through the plasma as fast as her pilot thought he could get away with. The little ship was wreathed in flame and leaving a trail behind her like the Devil's wake. Captain Bonney had had enough. Whatever Byrd thought she had seen...

"Captain! Clear space, 010 mark 355!" came the young woman's excited voice. Joker was already steering for it and asking the engines for even more.

Hard Tack's voice came next, "Captain, a G3V star with..." he was clearly astonished. "An M-Class planet, dead ahead."

Mauser also spoke up "Significant asteroids, high veridium concentration, it's like a damn minefield in here!"

Joker was slewing the _Paulson_ left and right like a skier on an Olympic slalom run, sweating and swearing under his breath.

'Membe shouted, "Particle storm, heavy Anti-neutrino concentrations, dead ahead, Jesus, that star's spitting them out like sleet!"

Bonney could see that on the canted console between Ross and Starkey. The 'Safe' zone course had long since vanished and in fact, the entire region in front of the ship was flagged in deep red with big, bright chunks of orange-white punctuating it. "Joker, get us out of this shit!"

"Fucking about _time!_" he muttered under his breath and forced the ship's nose up, back towards a thinner point in the shell that Byrd had flagged. "_She has to be busier than a one-armed paper hanger down there"_ he thought to himself. The ship bucked. Then bucked again, hard. Several alarms sounded and the intercom came to life with Galaar's deep voice.

"Containment field fluctuating, Captain, get us the hell out of whatever just hit us!"

Ross added the details, "Field vacillating between 25% and 70% captain, Engineering's badly contaminated with anti-neutrinos and the Bussard collectors are sucking in veridium particulate."

Galaar cursed in Tellarite, "Tell me something I _don't_ know!"

Starkey called out next, "She's not responding to the helm, Captain!"

Bonney ordered, "Full impulse, seal any intakes we've got and..." the ship shuddered and groaned. Despite the inertial dampeners, everyone aboard felt her heel hard to port and skid. "...oh shit. Pappy, I need power!"

Somewhere, there was an explosion amidships. "Hairy, fire another damn log buoy through that shell _now_!"

The red-alert klaxon sounded again, followed immediately by Galaar's voice, "We're losing containment! We need to dump the warp core bef..."

"DO IT!" she ordered, "Joker, do whatever you gotta do to get us away from the core!"

There were more loud bangs and groaning sounds as the _Paulson_ fought to save herself. Starkey sang out, "She's barely making way, helm's not answering worth a shit, Cap'n!" He let her have her head, trying to use the twin fusion reactors to push the ship away from the destabilizing warp core. The only thing he could do was let her fall towards the planet, letting gravity add to the feeble acceleration the impulse drives could manage.

There were several more loud slamming sounds and the ship continued to shake and groan and the crew again felt the ship heel and slide in a sickening sort of swirling motion. Bonney punched the button on her chair, "Galaar, we're losing the inertial dampeners up here!"

Everyone listening could hear the sounds echoing out of the engineering spaces – cracks, bangs, pops, the high-pitched scream of a coolant leak, Wilson's non-stop swearing and the crackling sounds of field-specific tools arguing it out with the disaster taking place in the _Paulson's_ engines. "We're on batteries, that crap the collectors sucked up has totally screwed the fusion reactors. We're losing the magnetic bottles; you've got about ten minutes of shields, maybe ten of ID on half power, we're trying to clear it..." there was another loud explosion as the shock wave from the detonating warp core hit them and that was the last anyone heard from engineering.

The Captain slammed the button again, "Daktari, get your tail down to engineering!"

There was no answer – he was already crawling on all fours down the seemingly-tilted hallways, claws digging into anything they could find a purchase in.

When he got there, the doors refused to open. He braced himself against the far wall and popped the manual override panel, reaching in and pulling the pneumatic lever down sharply. The doors lurched open a few inches, then stopped, revealing the swirling fire and steam within. Shard grabbed one door, braced his bad leg on the opposite wall and heaved it open by main strength. Back onto all fours he found Wilson almost instantly; He had been dragging Pappy towards the doors and likely collapsed when they refused to open. Shard grabbed both, dug his claws in, ignoring the pain from the melting carpet against his pads, and hauled both men out at the same time, finally gulping in big lungfuls of air in the corridor.

It was much easier to drag them down the hallway – he could breathe and the floor was no longer burning his feet. Still, even for a being with denser muscles than a human, hauling almost 400 pounds of dead weight is exhausting. He tripped the first emergency bulkhead he passed and then knelt down and gave Wilson a hypo of stimulant. He was burned and had a broken arm, but was clearly in better shape than Pappy.

Shard ordered him, "Help me with Pappy, quick!" and despite his still-groggy mind, Wilson was able to help him get the Tellarite to Sick Bay in short order. They dropped him on the bio-bed in the tilted space and strapped him down. It took Shard barely five seconds to conclude that there was nothing he could do for the man.

"What the _fuck_ Shard! You gotta do _something_! Can't you like put him in a stasis pod or something?"

"That just greatly slows reactions. He's _dead_. It's not like freezing him or..." Shard stopped mid-word and stared at Wilson. "Whale, you're a god damn genius. Replicate a shitload of hypothermic tri-isolate, Rg-positive at zero Celsius _FAST_."

Confused, Wilson slipped his way up the sloping floor to the medical replicator and told it what to do. When he had about 20 gallons of the stuff sitting in insulated five-gallon buckets he started back towards Shard who was hooking up a pair of very large-bore IV's into the dead Engineer's femoral arteries.

Shard looked up and laughed, "I'm not freezing the whole ship, doofus. Gimme one." He connected up the heavy rubber tube to one bucket and activated the pump. The other tube he just shrugged and pointed at the floor, letting the dead man's blood run down the deck into the corner. The ship continued to groan and squeal and buck.

Wilson was horrified – and couldn't stop watching. "Shard...what...you're embalming him already?" He was fighting the urge to throw up, watching a steady stream of blood being sucked out of his Chief, his shipmate, his friend. The blood was making a tremendous mess on the deck.

"No." he laughed. "Late twenty-first century. A doctor found that if he quickly replaced a trauma victim's blood with an ice-cold hypothermic trisolate that he could, after making the needed repairs, revive the victim even after twenty _hours_ of their heart being stopped and no brain activity. We're going to put Pappy in a stasis pod after we swap his blood. Even if we don't get back for twenty _years_ that's still within that window. Maybe a full trauma hospital can bring him back. He hasn't been dead for long. And the pod's are self-powered.

The ship bucked again and rang like a bell as something bounced off the weakened deflectors, actually striking the hull.

As soon as the pumps finished swapping the five or so liters of blood for the slippery, clear fluid Shard grabbed his arms. "Quick, help me get him in one..." The two men rapidly hauled the Engineer off the bio-bed and pulled out one of the ship's five stasis pods. While they were sliding him into the – for him – tight fitting cylinder Shard commented, "Never understood why they put _five_ of these things on here. I can't believe I'm using _one_." He and Wilson found places to stick the big buckets of fluid, "We'll recycle those later."

He activated the pod and slid it back into it's storage tube. "Come on, strap in. I'm sure we're not out of this yet."

Back on the Bridge, things were going from bad to worse. Ross was reading off a list of issues. "Main power off-line, hull breach starboard aft, engineering's completely gone, power distribution failing, IDs running in emergency mode, shields failing, communications have been gone since we went through the shell..."

Starkey interrupted, "I can't break free and I'm losing all maneuvering. I don't think I can even get us an orbit."

Bonney was tapping furiously on her console as well, trying to find some course of action that would save her crew, and her ship. The small compartment stank of smoke – the discharge nets had done their job, routing tremendous arcs of stray power into the deck, but several consoles had suffered from those same arcs and were now dead, black glass. Information was still pouring into her console, and Ross's and Starkey's – but there was less and less they could do about it.

The captain made a decision; "Take us down, Starkey, clean re-entry if you can still do it."

Eyes wide he looked back at her. "Cap'n, she's not a glider. Impulse is pretty well gone."

"Do it. We can't break free, we can't orbit, we go down. Do it while we still have some choice in _how_ we go down."

"Aye, aye, ma'am." He nursed the crippled ship into the atmosphere. Already damaged, the _Paulson_ began to scream as the thickening air began to bite at jagged surfaces, clawing at the hull and the leading edges of her 'wings'. Starkey was finding that he had less and less control over her as the damage spread. The ultimate 'fly-by-wire' vessel, her pilot had no direct inputs to the few thrusters or surfaces still reacting and even those were dropping off line faster and faster as the plasma fire consuming Engineering spread from within and the demonic heat of re-entry devoured her from without.

"All hands, brace for impact!" Bonney shouted into her intercom pickup and seconds later, the 50 meter ship hit the ground at a shallow angle then tumbled and flipped, eventually coming to rest upright, but slightly nose-down and angled onto her starboard side. There were long rents in her oblong saucer-shaped hull and smoke was billowing up into the grey and snowy sky.

_**CITY OF HIRI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**OCTOBER 2362**_

__Sava and Tharex were out for a walk, hoping a change of scene would spark some new idea, some new approach. Something they hadn't thought of, some stratagem to deal with this newer, deadlier Red Death. The last week had not been a good one for either man. The disease was spreading, jumping barricades with ease. Even their protective garments seemed less effective with more and more caregivers falling ill.

Sava caught sight of something in the distance, bright against the grey snow clouds. "Look, Tharex – a meteor!"

Tharex glanced up, then almost smiled. A long, bright-white fireball streaking across the sky, angling downward. "That is something. It is nice to have some beauty these days."

"Truly. And note the color – The flickers of green for nickle, yellow for iron, and … Hmm. So much white is unusual. Magnesium and aluminum...How very strange. And flickers of silver..Titanium? What an odd meteor."

"I would guess it will impact no more than a day's ride away. Perhaps we should go and find it?" he grinned. "A brief expedition to refresh our minds?"

Sava thought about it. "It does seem unusually large. I would guess that much of it will survive to impact, especially with such an odd composition." He sighed, "But no. We cannot go off on some private expedition to indulge our curiosity. Our every thought must be bent towards finding the solution, the cure. Let us leave the meteor as a reward for when we have solved our mystery!"

"Ah! I like that idea! A sort of prize to keep us focused on that which truly matters." He grinned at his friend. "Whichever of us finds the remedy shall have ownership of the rock when we go and collect it."

Sava laughed – his first in many days - "Agreed! And the other shall have to cart it back."


	15. Chapter 14

_**CHAPTER 14**_

"_Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it."_

_- Bill Cosby_

_**WRECK OF THE USS PAULSON, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**OCTOBER 2362**_

Someone was groaning. Shard opened his eyes, slowly. Every inch of him hurt and the stench of smoke and dirt was strong in his nose, and blood – a lot of blood. He saw that the only light was the small sick bay's emergency battle lamp, casting it's dim red illumination. It was more than enough for his eyes, but he was appalled. Those only came on when every source of power in the ship was dead. They consumed very little energy from their tiny cells and would stay lit for _months_ if needed. But they signaled a major disaster.

With a groan of his own, Shard remembered – they were crashing. The blood was Pappy's – he hoped. He lifted his head; The ship was resting at an angle and his seat was hanging drunkenly from a single bolt. Everything in the compartment was smashed, panels were off the ceiling, displays were shattered, wires and optical cables were dangling out of the overhead. He heard another groan and saw a pair of issue boots sticking out from under an overhead panel and what looked like a chunk of the ship's air system. He slapped the button on his harness and tried to catch himself as he dropped out of the seat. He landed badly on the angled deck and leaned against a workspace compartment. It only took a second to assess his own injuries – at least two broken ribs, a sprained ankle and an old familiar feeling: a concussion. Judging by the harness bruises he could feel up and down his torso and the mess all over the sick bay, the ship had not touched down gently.

Shard limped along the tilted deck to the bio-bed where Wilson had been strapped in. Despite the pain in his ribs, he flipped the heavy panel and equipment off his friend and used his hands and eyes to check him over. "Hey, buddy, wake up." A few gentle shakes on the shoulder brought him around. "We need to hurry – you have to help me check on everyone else. You've got some broken ribs, your right arm's busted, you've got a boatload of burns and bruises, and some cuts. So far, you're in the best shape. Let's move." He unstrapped the engineer and they headed out, moving as quickly as the ship's lean and their injuries allowed.

Shard pointed, "Check starboard side. Triage first, make a fast pass and see who needs what, just yell what you see."

They worked their way to the nose, calling to each other as they went. Shard got to the port side lab first, "'Membe's alive, unconscious, moving!"

Then Wilson, "COB's conscious, breathing, moving!

From the Sensory, Shard yelled, "Thank the gods, Byrd's conscious, breathing, she's bad though. Moving!"

Wilson in the starboard lab called out, "Tack's dead. Holy shit, there's blood everywhere. Fuck. Moving!"

They met in the bridge, finding the XO dead, his rib-cage crushed when the deck buckled under the impact and slammed his console into him. Starkey nearly suffered the same fate but instead suffered a skull fracture, broken collarbones and femur and a dislocated hip. The Captain was in the worst shape of the survivors with a fractured pelvis. There was a hole in the overhead of the bridge, and snow was falling into the ship. Shard acted quickly. "We've got time. Get Hard Tack to the MedBay, I've got Hairy. We'll freeze 'em. I'll hook them up, when the pump runs the blood dry, you stick them in a pod and activate it. I'll get everyone else back there. C'mon, go, go, go!"

Wilson struggled to get the heavy Vulcan's body out of the crushed, dirt-filled starboard-side lab and around to the Sick Bay on the opposite side of the ship, trying to see in the dim red battle lamps and work with his broken ribs and arm. Port-side forward at least had a big gash in the hull that let in light. He didn't even notice that he hadn't stopped swearing since he left the bridge; a low, monotonous repetitive chant of obscenity. When he dragged the body in, Shard already had the XO on the floor and was trying to get the pump to work with no power.

Like Wilson, he was swearing non-stop as he tried to find _something _in the wrecked sick bay to power the pump, finally tapping into the power on the scanner in his portable kit. He sacrificed the protoplaser and the wound sealer to run the pump for Hard Tack. "Go get Mouse while I get them started, then I'll get Katybyrd and Tomcat."

Wilson decided it only _felt_ like hours later when they had the two officers tucked safely into their stasis pods next to Pappy and the rest of the crew brought back to the aft end of the ship. He watched Shard working like a man possessed, using ripped bits of cloth, gauze, torn chunks of upholstery stuffing, optical cable – anything he could find, all the while issuing rapid-fire orders to Wilson. The little Dosadi was covered in blood; His own, and his shipmates'. The teal scrubs were soaked through, even the black scarf covering his head was a mess. He tried very hard _not _to remember the Captain's screams of agony as they pried at her crushed command chair and then dragged her back here; He kept hoping she would pass out from the pain, but she never did.

When Shard had finished doing what he could for everyone, he just sat back on his rump next to Wilson, trembling in pain and exhaustion. He took a deep, shaky breath and his ears twitched forward and his shoulders sagged. "Shit. We gotta check on the damn fire in Engineering."

"Fuck me." Wilson said, but he and Shard helped each other up and walked the short distance from the Sick Bay to the emergency bulkhead blocking the entrance to the aft portion of the _Paulson_. Shard put his hand on the door, but it felt cold, not hot.

Shard looked at his friend. "If we use the manual override, we're not likely to be able to close it again. What do you think?"

The engineer thought for a few moments and also felt the door. "Feels pretty cool. If it burned itself out, we could sure use the supplies back there and the tools. Let's chance it."

"Yeah, I agree. It'll take both of us as busted up as we are."

Except when Shard worked the pneumatic handle releasing the clamps, the thick hunk of tritainum fell away and down to the ground with a heavy thud leaving the two crewmen staring, open-mouthed at an alien world. Trees, a huge ragged scar in the dirt, thick grey clouds overhead and snow showers coming down.

Wilson exclaimed, "Holy _shit_! The whole ass end is gone!"

"Where the hell is Engineering?!"

Wilson pointed toward the horizon where a thick column of smoke could be seen, perhaps a quarter kilometer away. "I think that's where whatever's left is. Was. Whatever." He shivered as the wind curled around the torn hull of the _Paulson_. "Jesus, that's cold."

"Oh _fuck_." Shard swore. "It's gonna get _cold_ in there, we don't have _anything_ for cold-weather and everyone's totally screwed up." He punched the bulkhead. "What the hell _else_ can go wrong?"

Wilson actually smiled at that and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Never, _ever_ ask that, Shard. Murphy's a vindictive bastard and his Law rules. When you reach the ripe old age of twenty-three like me, you'll understand these things."

Shard shook his head. "You're nucking _futs, _Wilson. Let's collect all the blankets we can from the cabins, they might be lightweight, but they're better than nothing."

The sun had set and the temperature had dropped significantly when the Captain and the COB were alert enough to make any sort of decisions. 'Membe was still unconscious and Starkey was in too much pain to do anything but moan. Panting from the pain she asked her two most junior crewmen. "Wh...what's...what's our status."

Wilson, the senior man, answered her. "Ship's a wreck, Cap'n. Whole ass end is gone from bulkhead 35 aft. No power anywhere. Whole starboard side's crushed and or torn open; Compartments 12 aft to 9 are open to the ground. 1, 2, 13 and 14 are crushed completely. Major holes in the overhead from bulkhead 10 port to the sensory, the bridge, and the amidships quarters and survey shop. XO, Pappy, and Hard Tack are dead, but Shard's doing some voodoo that might make them revivable so they're in stasis pods. 'Membe's comatose, severe concussion and a depressed skull fracture and a bunch of other shit. COB's got a concussion, broken breastbone both legs broke, and her skull's fractured. Joker's in about the same shape, plus his collarbones are broken, so's his femur and his hip was dislocated. Byrd's got a concussion, skull fracture, broken collarbones, dislocated hip we reset, and she's cut to ribbons. Shard's got a concussion, burns, sprained ankle, some broken ribs. I've got a broken arm, some cuts and burns and a couple broken ribs. Cap'n, you are pretty fucked up. Fractured pelvis, burns, concussion, and it looks like you sprained both wrists. Daktari doesn't think they're broken.

"We've crashed on a class-M planet, cold, snowy, in the middle of some woods, it looks like. Our situation is, as of right now, stable. Medical reports that all injuries are at least stabilized with a somewhat positive prognosis, however, we have no supplies and the portable kits are either destroyed or dead. Our emergency rations and equipment were stored in either the bow or stern and both are destroyed."

Lieutenant Bonney closed her eyes and tried to think. "Any signs of intelligent life?"

Byrd spoke up, wincing at the throbbing in her head and shoulders. "No. I didn't see any radio emissions, nothing indicating any power use. We did pick up a lot of combustion by-products before we crashed, but there's likely forest fires and the like."

Bonney was impressed. The girl had been watching her gear right up until they hit dirt, evidently. "Good. No risk of a Prime Directive violation then. All we have to do is survive until someone comes to rescue us. We dropped two log buoys so they'll be along. Might take a couple months, but they'll come."

She inhaled as much as she could. Shard and Wilson had immobilized her to a make-shift backboard, taking special pains to make sure nothing could move her hips. "You two...Well done. You've given us a shot to get out of this mess." She inhaled again, a shuddering sound. "I am going to fall asleep, I think...getting very drifty. We need food, and something warm and..." she faded out into unconsciousness.

Wilson looked over at Shard. He was trying to clean the blood off of Byrd's skin, gently using a torn bit of cushion as a sponge. She was looking back at him, actually smiling and trying to project an image of calm confidence. She whispered, "You're amazing."

The engineer glanced back over at the door to the Sick Bay. They had worked in a pair of optical-cable cords so they could slide them open and closed and tie them shut, but it was still cold. He hoped that the shared body heat of the seven survivors and the dozen thin blankets they had managed to salvage would be enough. He cuddled up next to the still unconscious 'Membe and Starkey's sleeping form, pulled the blankets over them all and fell asleep almost instantly.

His eyes snapped open when a cold breeze blew over him. The wan light of the battle lantern showed him Shard limping out the doors. "Yo, Shard. What's up?"

The young medic turned and looked back. "We need meat. Everyone's lost blood and got broken bones – we need protein. Starvation is not going to heal anyone. I'll be back soon." And he was gone, sliding the doors shut behind him.

Wilson shook his head. Where did the kid find the energy to go _hunting_ in the middle of the night after a crash, treating everyone's injuries, being injured himself...That boy was not right in the head. He closed his eyes again and thought to himself. _"And thank God for it."_

Shard dropped to the ground from the torn stern of the _Paulson_. No one else aboard would be able to make the jump back up, but he could. Or, he could always crawl over the bow and drop in through one of the big tears in the hull. He limped a few yards from the wreck and stopped for a moment to re-tighten the brace he had fashioned around his ankle. The burns on the pads of his feet had broken open and they hurt like hell, but pain, he was used to that. The ribs were a nuisance and he'd have to be careful hunting, but like the head injuries, they were, in a way, old friends. He smiled at his situation. Naked, in the woods, injured, in the snow...except now he had a purpose beyond simple survival. His family was at stake. He looked back at his home; The ship was a wreck. Scorched, blackened, bent, torn, and broken. She would still serve them as shelter though, until they were rescued.

His nose worked, and he let his ears catch all the sounds the breeze carried. He remembered all those horrible days on Earth, trying to figure out what he could eat, or drink, what hurt, what didn't; Those late night conversations with Katybyrd were really paying dividends. Well, beyond the obvious, he thought to himself. He smiled, dropped down to his hands and feet and slowly moved off into the snowstorm. As a child, he had learned that, much like his pre-sentient ancestors, he could mark his trail with little bits of urine so he had no fear of losing his way.

Sometimes there would be a small break in the clouds and he could see the flickering light of the shell of the 'easter egg' that surrounded this solar system. He wondered how long it would be before the log buoy made it home and they sent a rescue ship. There would be enough information in the log for the rescuers to avoid the _Paulson_'s fate. His sharp ears brought him the sounds of some alien creature long before the breeze blew its scent to him and he froze in place. The bluish-white light of the snowy night created sharp shadows on the few swirling little drifts that had built up and he saw a rat. Whatever it would eventually be called, it was basically a rat. And it was meat.

The creature had no idea that anything like Shard even existed and didn't even have time to realize he was being hunted before Shard had snapped its neck. He quickly cached it and moved on. He'd need quite a lot more than a rat to keep his shipmate's healthy – and he'd need to find out if it was even edible to humans, and Dosadi first. In the next half hour, Shard managed to catch an even half-dozen of the fat, scaly, rodent-like creatures.

An hour later, just as he finished caching his latest kill, he heard a snuffling whuffling sound of something considerably larger than the rat. His nose told him _'Predator!'_. Moving very, very slowly and nearly flat on his belly, Shard moved towards the sound. Whatever it was, it was furry – thick, dark and light striped fur - with a heavy body, and fixed, thick claws that it was using to tear at the forest litter. There were thick folds of fat around it's neck; Shard mentally categorized it as a bear, or a lox. He _really _wished that the _Paulson's_ armory hadn't been smashed in the nose of the craft and made a mental note to dig around and see if they could find a phaser anyway. And a spear...

Wilson heard a few sounds, like someone stirring, and opened his eyes. It was cold, but not freezing, in the compartment and he decided he'd at least sit up in the dim red light and see what the situation was. Byrd's eyes were open, as were Starkey's "Hey, guys. How are you feeling?"

Byrd answered first, "Like shit. Where's Shard?"

"He isn't back yet?"

Starkey managed, "Back? Where'd he go? We're on a shipwreck."

"He went hunting."

Byrd was appalled, "You let him go _hunting_!? Jesus, Whale, he was _hurt_!"

"We're _all_ hurt, Byrd. What'd you want me to do? Tie him up?"

"You outrank him! Order him to stay here!"

"Yeah, I outrank him. I've got six months seniority." he laughed, "Hey, you smell something?"

Starkey sniffed, "BBQ?"

Byrd turned her head to look at him. "Don't be an idiot. Wilson, go see – I can't even sit up."

Wilson painfully got to his feet and made his way down the tilted floor to the door, slipped the optical cables loose and opened it. The scent was much stronger and there was clearly daylight streaming in from the missing aft bulkhead. He walked over to the hole and looked out at their new home and almost fell out the hatch.

"Good morning!" Shard looked up from the frame he was in front of.

"What the _fuck?!" _Wilson asked. There was a fire with spits of meat cooking over it, a bent hunk of metal that held water, and Shard had the skin of something stretched across a bunch of sticks stuck in the ground and was using a flat rock to scrape the back of it.

"Hungry? I'll pass some up and some boiled water – be really careful with 'Membe if he can't manage his own airway. Shard gingerly got to his feet and began collecting food and his make-shift bucket. There was a pretty good cut down his left arm that Wilson didn't recall from the crash.

A few minutes later, Wilson worked back up to the Sick Bay and through the door and began handing out the chunks of cooked meat. Starkey and Byrd both asked the same thing he did: "What the _fuck?!"_

Wilson answered, "Well, if you've got to be shipwrecked, it's best to be shipwrecked with Robinson Crusoe. He's out there making a fur blanket or something."

Byrd just laughed, "He survived, lost in the woods, for years on his own as a really little boy."

Mauser, struggling to breathe with her crushed breastbone still managed, "If you don't want to marry him, I will." and took a nibble of the meat that Wilson was offering her.

"I saw him first." the Captain chipped in from her backboard.

"Screw that, _I_ saw him first." Wilson said with a grin, handing her a spit of rat. "I can be flexible...Ma'am."

Several days after the crash, Shard sat down with his Captain. He had just finished dealing with the normal outcome of the digestive process and cleaning her up. She looked up at him. "I cannot stand being helpless."

"I know. It'll pass quickly, Cap'n, don't worry about it." he waved at the other crew who needed help with such things due to their injuries and smiled "You're not the only one." The tiny compartment _stank_ with the unavoidable odors of several immobile people across several days. This planet's day was about 28 hours long, but their watches were more then capable of handling different time systems and staying in synch with Starfleet base time.

She gingerly shook her head. "You're something of a surprise here, Crewman."

He laughed, "Cap'n, I've been taking care of the sick and injured since my father first took me on a call as a small boy. There's no real difference between one body fluid and another to me." he shrugged. "And I love being able to help people. I mean, don't get me wrong, dealing with body wastes isn't my favorite thing in the world, but it sort of makes me feel like I matter when I can look at someone and know they'd be much worse off if it weren't for me." He leaned over her and held up a pinched rubber tube of water for her to drink from.

"Not just the medical skill. Everything. You're injured too, but you're unstoppable. Your attitude is up-beat, and you've got a range of survival skills that are, frankly, stunning. Like making a drinking bladder out of a big rubber tube." she swallowed another small drink. "If I remember right, you got turned down for the Academy."

"Yeah. I'm a little nuts, and my leg was a bit too damaged for them." he shrugged again. "I don't really care. I'm in Starfleet, that matters more to me than what symbols I get to wear on my collar."

"Well, I'm thankful you're on _my_ ship, Shard. And so is everyone else. So, personally I'm awfully damn glad that they turned you down."

"Actually, Cap'n, so am I. I like being a _Paulson_. And to me, being part of this crew means more than anything else." He sighed. "I need your authorization for something, though."

"What's that?"

"'Membe. That skull fracture's getting worse, not better. We're having a hard time getting water down him and I think his brain's starting to swell."

"What is it you need authorization for Shard, spit it out."

"I need to reduce the fracture, Cap'n."

"So? Why do you need my permission to do your job?"

"Captain. I've got no tools. No instruments, no nerve blockers. I've got a knife and I think I can make a pick to get the fragments out of his brain. People haven't done surgery like this since the Napoleonic Wars. He's more likely to die than live. I don't even have anything to sterilize the area."

"What happens if you don't take a shot at it?"

"He dies."

"No chance he'll get better?" she asked him, but looking up at him, she could read the answer in his furry face.

"None, unless I'm totally wrong about what's going on under his scalp."

She thought about it for a few seconds. "Do it. If you lose him, you can freeze him like you did the XO, Tack, and Pappy, right?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am. The fluid's not ice cold any more. I don't think it'd work. The two remaining pods were damaged in the crash as well, I'm not sure I'd trust them. They _say_ they're OK, but they sure don't look it."

"Do it, Shard. I've got a lot of faith in your best shot. I think that's likely to be better than a lot of full doctors' average shot. He'd trust you."

"Thank you, Cap'n. I'll grab Wilson and we'll get started. He can help me get him outside."

"Why outside? It's freezing out there!"

"Yeah. It'll slow down any blood loss and keep him out of here. It's a lot less sterile in here than out there." He stood up. "If you pray, now would be a good time." He moved across the sloped floor and started sliding 'Membe's still form to the door then bellowed for Wilson.

Wilson was again trying very hard not to throw up. 'Membe wasn't moving, but he had to help hold him still under his blankets and was keeping an eye on his pulse and breathing while Shard used a little flat-bladed knife from his quarters to slice into his head. The tall Tanzanian's scalp was peeled back over his face, the hair dangling down, the white of his skull visible in the bright light of the morning. There was blood – but not nearly as much as when Shard had pumped Pappy or the XO dry all over the Sick Bay.

He swallowed hard, feeling the gorge rising in the back of his throat. He could actually _see_ Tomcat's brain, and Shard's blue-gloved fine, long-fingered hands were using a bent piece of wire to flick out little chunks of bone. There was a light snowfall coming down and the sheet that Shard had rigged up as a tarp was barely enough to keep it out of 'Membe's cranium.

"Wilson...C'mon, man, what's the pulse?"

"Huh? Oh, shit...Sorry." He thought about it for a few seconds. "About the same. Maybe 45. Not very strong. He's starting to shiver."

"Dammit, this is taking too long. You got that metal plate you made?"

"Yeah. But it's awful thin, Shard. I don't think I'd want it protecting _my _brains."

Shard grinned as he coaxed another bone fragment out and away. "Just until we can get back to civilization, buddy. Just enough to keep them in his head and not bump his scalp up too much. All right, I think that's the last of them. Gimme the plate and that bonding agent."

"You know that's not medical anything, right? It's like liquid weld." He handed him the small tube.

"I'm only using a couple drops and it'll hold the plate onto the skull." Shard lined the little chunk of tritanium up over the ragged edges of the missing sections of skull in 'Membe's head. Then he carefully angled it up and placed three quick drops onto the bone and gently pressed the metal down. Satisfied with the fit, he returned the flap of scalp over the plate and took up one of Mauser's fine needles and some bright lavender thread and began to stitch. "Not bad for a one-armed engineer and a lame cat." he muttered while he sewed the edges of skin together.

When he had finished, the two of them man-handled their friend back into the wreck, and into the Sick Bay. Shard flopped backwards against the wall and started to shake, coughing some. Wilson had his good arm wrapped around his own ribs and was shivering from the cold, but took the time to make extra sure that 'Membe was between Byrd and Mauser for warmth. Wilson was really starting to hate the bloody red battle lamp.

Byrd tilted her head back and looked at them both. Like Mauser and Starkey, she had a figure-eight sling and brace holding her arms immobile. Her many cuts were at the stage that they were starting to itch and were driving her crazy. "Hey, Shard, you okay?"

"Yeah. I _hate_ having broken ribs." He tugged at the tight rib-belt he had fashioned from someone's workout clothing. Lifting a weight like that really _really _hurts."

Wilson looked at him, a little wild-eyed. "Just promise me you won't ever cut into _my_ brain like that."

Shard laughed, and coughed. "Whale, you don't got a brain and you know it."

Byrd laughed and asked him, "You said that me, Mauser and Starkey all had skull fractures too. How come we're not like 'Membe?"

"You guys have cracks in the bone. Starkey's got two. 'Membe's was what's called a depressed fracture. When the overhead came down on his skull it actually smashed the bone inward, into the brain. You guys are gonna be fine in about six to eight weeks. His brain was swelling to get rid of the injury and the fragments and had no place to go except out that torn up hole, and that was killing him."

"What about all the other broken bones?" Mauser asked.

Shard leaned his head back and lectured to the ceiling, exhausted. He had gone hunting every one of the last three days, plus caring for his shipmates, plus digging a latrine trench, plus trying to salvage equipment, plus trying to set up some basic gear to live with. "Let's see. Wilson's arm, maybe four, five weeks if we can keep the protein coming. Our ribs, Mauser's legs and Starkey's femur, six weeks. Your and Starkey's collarbones and Mauser's breastbone, maybe six, so the same." he thought. "Cap'n's pelvis...eight to ten weeks to completely heal."

Lieutenant Bonney had been listening – it was impossible not to in the crowded little compartment. "That's to heal. How long before people can start helping you two?"

"If they take it easy...Byrd in about three weeks. Mouser and Starkey, maybe four. 'Membe, if he lives, I dunno. It depends on his brain. You. Cap'n, the pelvis is a really bad thing to break because of all the blood vessels there. You can tear one on a jagged edge and bleed to death in a few minutes. I don't want you doing much of anything for five, maybe six weeks. A month if you're really good and heal fast."

"So three weeks you two have to carry the load."

Shard nodded, eyes closed, ears level with the deck and whiskers drooped somewhat. "Yes, ma'am."

She took a deep breath. "Can you do it, crewmen? Can we all count on you?"

There was no answer except the soft snores coming from both Wilson and Shard, so Byrd spoke. "Yes, ma'am. They'll come through."

Three days after Shard's attempt to save 'Membe, Mouser realized the date. "Hey, it's Halloween!"

Starkey asked, "How in the hell have you kept track of the date?"

"I'm the COB. That's part of my job, which you'll note I'm doing a better job of than _you_ did landing us."

"Any landing you walk away from is a good one."

"Only two of us are walking. And as I understand it, you're supposed to be able to use the ship again afterwards."

Starkey opened his mouth to riposte, but instead they both heard a mumbled "Daktari."

Byrd picked it up the fastest. "'Membe? 'Membe? Is that you?"

"Daktari. Maji." there was a groan and then "Maji." again.

Starkey asked, "What the hell? Is that Swahili? Anyone know it?"

Byrd sat up, groaning at the pain that shot through her shoulders. Struggling with the soreness in her hip and her many cuts, she made her way to the door and tried to figure out how to open it without the use of her arms or hands. She finally twisted 'round enough to get a grip on it and carefully pulled the optical-cable lanyard until the door slid open, "Shard!" she called. "Shard! It's 'Membe! He's waking up!"

Fortunately, Shard had been digging around the wreckage with Wilson, trying to find salvageable gear and was able to quickly return to the Sick Bay. "Hey, Tomcat! How you doing?" he knelt down and felt gently around the man's head and neck.

"Daktari, maji tafadhali"

"Uh...Here, have a drink of this." he picked up one of the big rubber tubes he had converted to a drinking bladder and helped the man drink since, like Byrd and Mauser, his arms were immobilized.

"Asante, asante sana, Daktari." he said and closed his eyes again.

"I'll be damned. I thought I'd killed him." Shard marveled, looking down at his friend. I can't believe it's not infected even – it's not hot, it's not swollen. The stitches seem to be working. Good thing you like sewing, COB." he chuckled.

Mauser looked at Shard with a deep respect. "A better thing _you_ know how to sew, Daktari. And cut. And hunt. And everything else. They're gonna give you about twelve medals when we get back, you know that, right? Make movies about you and shit."

Wilson winked at her. "Yeah, Doctor Cat, MD. Runs away to join a pirate crew and turns hero."

Shard flicked his tail at Wilson. "Yeah, right. Just so long as they put us all on a new _Paulson, _I'm good."

The COB asked him, "So this hasn't scared you off exploring?"

"Nah. It's still not as bad as when I was a kid. And like I said, you guys are my family. This is home now. It's just a little banged up is all."

The next couple weeks went much the same as the castaways settled into a routine. Despite Shard's fretting, his shipmates were young, healthy, and at the peak of fitness before the crash. And with Shard and Wilson's foraging and salvaging, they were eating much better than everyone feared. To be honest, the stench in the Sick Bay had a lot to do with motivating people to get mobile again quickly. Even once everyone but Mouser and the Captain were able to take care of their own toilet needs in the latrine outside, the smell remained.

One morning, Bonney had reached her limit. "Jesus, COB, you at least get to go outside every now and again and get some fresh air. There's _got_ to be another compartment we can set up in."

Both Mouse and Starkey's leg breaks meant that even after nearly a month they weren't able to really put weight on their legs. But Shard and Wilson, with motivating suggestions from Byrd and 'Membe, had managed to rig a sort of skid up for both of them and could haul them into the corridor by the hatch for some fresh air. Shard was still very hesitant to move Lieutenant Bonney at all.

Mauser turned her head. "I was talking with everyone about that. Most of the ship's compartments are open to the air; We've got birds living in your quarters and the XO's." She chuckled. "Shard seems to think that makes them a lot easier to catch. The port-side lab is a wreck. Everything on the starboard side is crushed and or ripped open and full of dirt and rocks. The midships compartments are torn open; A big section of the hull peeled back on that like the lid on a tin can. The Bridge is crumpled and torn open. The Sensory looks like a glass sky-scraper exploded and then burned. That leaves us Sick Bay and...Shard's quarters."

"Why don't we move in _there?_"

Mauser grinned. "Don't you wonder why Supercat hasn't been staying there himself? His nose is about ten times as sensitive as ours."

"Jesus, I didn't even think about that. This has to be...Wow."

"Yeah. His body temperature is also a couple degrees higher than ours. Guess who's been using himself as a mobile electric blanket? He said he wanted to keep one compartment clear for when people are more mobile – let Sick Bay get mucked up until we're all better able to take care of um, bodily functions and not bleeding all over everything and then move us into his quarters and keep using shared body heat to keep warm. He's the only one with fur, so he's the only one not freezing all the time outside."

"Lucky bastard." she laughed.

"Yeah. Makes you wonder doesn't it? If there isn't some grand plan?"

"What are you talking about COB?"

"Think about it. We get shipwrecked with the one guy in the whole freakin' universe who can keep us all alive. What are the odds?"

She snorted. "There are a _lot_ of people with those skills, even all of them in one package. Special Forces, survival experts, that sort of thing."

"How many of them get posted on a _Higgins_-class science scout, Captain?"

"Fine, we got lucky. Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly thankful for him and everything he and Wilson have done. But I don't ascribe it to some divine intervention."

"Yeah. Anyway, he said that he thought we should all move into the new compartment in about another week when he's willing to move you around and everyone's a bit more mobile. Then he's planning on getting Sick Bay cleaned up and aired out."

"Not by himself he's not."

Mauser grinned. "Yeah, I said the same thing. He agreed for once – he thinks it'll be some good low impact activity for everyone to start using arms and legs again. Hard to believe he's not quite nineteen, isn't it?"

_**CITY OF HIRI, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

**NOVEMBER 2362**

Sava was slumped in the chair in his study, the lamps unlit. Milay led Tharex and Anakee in to see him. He barely looked up. "What news?"

Tharex sat opposite him, Anakee went to light one of the lanterns. "The same."

"How many now?"

"It's getting difficult to get an accurate count. More and more cities and villages are sealing themselves off and not allowing anyone in or out. The Army has been using airships to try to get a sense of where and how far, and there are light signals being exchanged to spread messages."

"How many, Tharex?"

"I'd estimate that one person in every ten now carries the disease. Even Philo and his ilk now agrees that it must, somehow, be these tiny invaders that causes the disease, although he feels that they are somehow causing a fluid imbalance that..."

Sava interrupted with a sulfurous obscenity that caused Milay to cover her ears and exclaim, "Sava! The children!"

Dispirited he said, "They may as well hear such words now. I doubt they shall live to see sixteen."

Anakee turned, "You have given up? _You_?!"

The man said nothing, ears and whiskers drooping, eyes downcast, his fur showing the signs of neglect.

Tharex tried to cheer his friend up. "Sava, we must not give in to despair. Every failure is simply one more piece of data, one more clue to our eventual triumph."

"I don't know what else to try. Everything I try does nothing, or causes more harm. If only I had some way to deliver death directly to these little..." he glanced at his wife and substituted a different word, "creatures. How does one pick one cell from another?"

"Well, how does the blue dye only illuminate the invaders?"

"I do not know. I have found only a half dozen types of cells that absorb the dye, but by far the majority of them I find in any person are the invaders that are almost _always _present in those with the Red Death."

"Can you somehow attach a toxin to the dye?" Anakee asked.

"How? With glue? It is a chemical. If I add a chemical, it alters the properties of the original, creating something new, and that is not something that the invaders take in."

She tried again, "What chemicals have you tried?"

He waved his arm, tiredly, at his drawing table. It was covered in curled up tubes of paper. She smoothed several out and found they were covered with lists of every compound imaginable, all with lines through them. There were notes – many in Tharex's hand – covering the sheets.

Milay asked him, "Is there something we can do to make it so that people can survive the Red Death? People _do _sometimes get better!"

Sava mumbled, "Previous outbreaks perhaps four of every ten patients did. More if there were plenty of caregivers. Now? It is perhaps two. My love, it ruins the lungs. The coughing tears the blood vessels within the delicate tissues, the mucous builds causing more coughing...And now, even the eponymous redness caused by the rupturing of tiny blood vessels under the skin has worsened. Some people begin to bleed from the eyes, the nose, the claw sheaths, any opening."

Tharex offered, "But it is the cough, the bloody cough that is the worst. If only it were possible to lighten the weight on the lungs, or to soften the buildup of mucous so that it would clear more easily."

"Oh!" Milay had a thought. "Steam!"

"I beg your pardon?" Sava asked. "We are not attempting to create some sort of powered lung here, my love, nor an engine to drive out the invad..."

"No, no, no. Often when I am boiling something for our meal, I have found that..." her ears flicked, embarrassed, "Please forgive my indelicacy. That I feel the urge to cough and it produces some..." she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Mucous."

Sava looked at her, curiously. "Steam. Adding moisture to dilute the mucous. That is so...against common sense. Adding liquid to the lungs for those who are drowning in their own blood."

Tharex thought about it. "But for those in the early stages...This might buy time, Sava."

"Hmm. Perhaps _that_ is how to administer death to the Death. Mix it with steam...Tharex, let us try an experiment..."

_**WRECK OF THE USS PAULSON, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**NOVEMBER 2362**_

Another week had passed for the crew of the _Paulson_. Wherever they had crashed, it was definitely moving into winter. The skies were grey, snow showers were frequent and drifts were starting to pile up along the ship's sides. Byrd and Shard were sitting on top of the hull, their feet dangling through a torn open section of hull into what had been the Science Officer's quarters. Both were wearing a fur coat that Mauser had stitched together from the hides Shard had brought back.

Shard was playing his flute while Byrd sang along, the music floating down across the wreckage along with the light snow and gentle breeze. They had managed to create a number of poorly-tanned fur blankets for people and had moved everyone into Shard's quarters. The Sick Bay was in the process of being cleaned, but it was slow going when no one could really apply much scrubbing power. Still, with warmer coverings it meant that doors could be left open and fresh air let through the ship.

They heard a muffled call from 'Membe, who was working with Starkey to try to clean the Sick Bay, "What song is that?"

Byrd grinned and shouted back, "Aftermath! It kinda seemed appropriate."

"Can you play something _up_ beat?" Starkey shouted.

Shard rolled his eyes at Byrd and put his flute back to his lips and began playing a classic reel, the trills and soaring melody filling the ship. When he had finished, Wilson called up from where he was finishing cleaning up some small bits of gear they had salvaged, including a box of twenty UT ear pieces, a single phaser, and a crowbar. "Pirate music! That's more like it! What was that one?"

Grinning, ears all the way forward Shard yelled back, "The Habanero Reel" by Ian Anderson, the most famous British flutist ever. That was followed by a faint "Yarrr!" coming from Lieutenant Bonney, safely stashed in Shard's bed with the door open.

Byrd smiled at him and put her hand on his leg, leaned in and kissed him.

He smiled back, picked the flute up again and started playing, a lively bouncy tune that echoed back from the trees. When he finished, he saved everyone the trouble and called down "Paganini Caprice Number 24!"

Byrd asked him, "So you're a jukebox too?"

He laughed. "Naw. There's maybe half a dozen songs I've actually got memorized and I just went through three of them. The rest I need my PADD for, but that got shattered in the crash." He watched some birds flutter out of the Captain's quarters. There wasn't that much of a hole there, and in fact a lot of it was smashed in from the impact, but they seemed to think it made a perfect shelter. Their droppings made something of a mess though, especially when they got into a corridor and panicked.

Shard scratched at his fur. "I wonder if there are _any_ planets that don't have fleas."

Byrd also scratched. "I wish. It's not really something you ever think about these days. But living in a shipwreck and living on whatever we can catch...I guess we'll just have to live with it until you figure out a way to get rid of them."

"Me?!"

"Why not? You've figured everything _else_ out. How'd you get rid of them when you were a lost little boy?"

He cocked his head at her. "They weren't really active in winter time. And in the summer, I'd find a river, when I thought it was safe and no one was watching, I'd dunk myself in it, just leave my nose out with a stick and they'd eventually all get on the stick and I'd let it float away. Sometimes I'd find some oak bark and scrub with that. They didn't seem to like that."

"No one's going dunking in the river in these temperatures!"

"Yeah. I dunno, maybe I'll figure out some irritant they don't like in my copious spare time." he winked at her. "Speaking of which, I should go see what I can catch for dinner. It's getting a lot easier with my ribs knitting up and the sprains gone."

_**WRECK OF THE USS PAULSON, PLANET ARIS, THE BADLANDS**_

_**DECEMBER 2362**_

Shard very softly placed his hand another few inches forward, carefully keeping his ears lowered so they didn't rustle the bare branches on the underbrush. He had been forced to go further afield lately; The local fauna had concluded that there were new predators about. The furry pig-looking thing was almost within reach of a quick rush. They were easier to kill without a spear, for once – their throat and major arteries were quite easily reached with his claws and teeth. He thought of them as pigs, though maybe goat was closer, but they rooted around like pigs, so pigs they were despite the fur. And the horns. Those hurt if he wasn't quick enough slipping his mouth and hands under the thick, cartilaginous neck ruffle.

Piggy suddenly raised its head and looked over its shoulder. Shard froze – something had alerted it. It was looking away from him, but...If something was alarming prey, that could mean another predator and that called for caution. He listened, smelled, tried to feel with his feet and fur, he even stuck his tongue out a little just in case. There was something making a very, very faint and odd vibration in the ground just over the ridge behind piggy. And whatever it was, piggy considered it dangerous and ran off quickly into the deeper woods.

Disappointed at losing both the meat and a possible coat for someone, Shard crept towards the ridge, flat on his belly. _"I've spent more time on all fours these last five weeks than I have since I was a kitten."_ he thought to himself. The tips of his ears crested the ridge and he heard it clearly – far off, the faint rhythmic squeaking of what could only be a wheel. His whiskers flipped forward. A wheel meant intelligent life; No wonder piggy ran off. That was a significant risk to anything. The Starfleet crewman slowly raised his head up, making sure that there was some background clutter to mask his silhouette.

Below him, perhaps two miles off through the trees was a trail of some sort. "_No_" he corrected his own thought, _"That's a road. Two tracks, parallel. And there we are..."_ a small sort of wagon came into view, the single axle squeaking as it went. Shard tried to make his eyes see further and wished for binoculars – whatever they were they were _tiny_. The little cart was being pulled by something about the size of a Great Dane, except it looked like it was part dinosaur. Shard studied the road. He could drop down the ridge-line, out of sight of anything and make his way to a thick copse at a bend in the track. Unless these people had considerably sharper senses then the animals he'd encountered already, they'd never know he was there.

The entire trip only took him a few minutes. He was far quicker running upright, of course, even with his limp. He was just quite a lot less stealthy. Still, he was able to make it into the bare, black bushes and adjust his position so he had the best view of the path the cart would travel. The dino draft critter came into view first, plodding along, pulling the little cart. The cart itself looked like a chopped-off covered wagon from Earth's American West and appeared to have a single large bow across the middle supporting a canvas cover. Sitting underneath an extension of that cover – which was propped up on two angled-out supports - were two people.

Shard immediately decided they would not have done well on the run in Northern England; They looked like large foxes. Perhaps a meter high. Red fur. Pointy noses; He wondered if those noses were as sensitive as his own and was glad that he was downwind of them. The eyes were dark, but seemed very bright in the morning light. The snow on either side of the road and the dark blue sky overhead, the auroral display, and the bare branches of trees and bushes with the little track cutting through the forest and a small cart traveling down it made a lovely and picturesque scene.

But there was clearly something wrong. Unless these people were very different from any other species he'd encountered, they were afraid of something. They were pushing the draft animal hard; It was plodding because it was tired, not due to its nature. The two people smelled afraid, very much in 'flight' mode. Then he saw two more little pointy-nosed heads pop up behind the first two. Obviously the entire family was fleeing some threat. He could hear them talk, but the sounds were meaningless. Even if he'd had his UT earpiece in, the thing needed some basis to work from. Some shared time together for a working pair to compare notes, so to speak, and begin to translate. They always got better with time. But for now, all he could do was observe.

Shard decided that the Captain would want more information. If this was an inhabited planet, that altered things drastically. The life forms he just saw were clearly not warp-capable, so they would have to ensure that the _Paulson _and her crew stayed an unknown until they were rescued. And that would need more data than he could get from a single cart and a single family. He waited for the cart to creak out of sight around the next bend in the track and then began ghosting along it in the direction they came from.


End file.
